


Cry Like the Cats

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Pedophilia, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 98,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her boyfriend is a monster…Frank just wishes his mother could see it, because he can’t bring himself to say a word. Between puberty and his parents’ custody arrangement, Frank can barely understand who he is becoming or what toll the abuse is really taking on him. He wants to tell someone, but no one is there…except for maybe Gerard, the son of his father’s new neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Ever since he was a child Frank had suffered from anxiety. Maybe it was caused by his parents fighting, and maybe it was the pressure from his church to be a perfect Christian boy. But whenever he felt the tension building in his chest, he would go to his room, grab his VHS tape of the musical _Cats_ and sneak it into the VCR. 

Frank didn’t remember where the tape had come from. It seemed that one day it just happened to be there, in a box under his bed.

He remembered looking over his shoulder at the kitchen where his parents would stand and argue in hushed voices, then he would turn the volume up just loud enough to block out their voices and stare at the screen. His whole world became a blue-tinted universe occupied by anthropomorphic cats who knew only how to chant and sing.

He didn’t even like the play…he just loved watching them dance around. Until he’d found out there was a subtitle button on the remote, he’d never even known what the people cats were singing.

Even now that he was thirteen and his parents were divorced and no longer fighting, Frank would get those awful bouts of anxiety and his tape was the only thing that could save him. He’d tried other techniques after Max Gibbons from school made fun of him and called him a sissy for admitting to having watched _Cats,_ but nothing else soothed him like _Cats_ did.

The blue-tinted stage, the nighttime backdrop, the makeup, the music—he loved it all. It calmed him almost instantly. As soon as he saw Victoria, the pure white cat dancing across the stage, stretching out her legs and bending her spine, he was enthralled. Nothing else mattered and his fear went away.

He wished he were a Jellicle Cat.

He wished he were a Jellicle Cat…

“Frank, _please_ eat your dinner,” his mother insisted. Frank stared at the lump of ground up animal flesh on his plate and swallowed hard. 

“Mom, I _can’t,_ ” Frank whimpered. “Please, Mom—it’s an _animal._ ”

“It’s not a sacred animal—now _eat!_ ” She wasn’t trying to be mean. She was just being a mother. 

“I can’t,” Frank whined. “I’ll eat more of the green beans, just _please_ don’t make me eat the animal. Please, Mom? It’s wrong!”

His mother sighed heavily and shook her head.

“Fine. But you’d better finished what’s left of the vegetables I made. I don’t want any leftovers.” Frank didn’t wait to be told twice. He took his plate from the table and hurried into the kitchen, grinning madly when he got to throw the rancid meat away. He got a fresh plate and filled it with what was left of the mashed potatoes and green beans his mother had made to go with the meat and hurried back to the table. “Ronnie wanted to grill ribs for us this weekend, but I guess we’re going to have to make you something else, aren’t we?”

Frank felt his grin instantly drop and he stared at his plate, unable to take a bite. 

“What?” She asked when she saw how pale his face had gone. “What’s wrong?—Oh, Frank, I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip you!” His hand started shaking as he went to grab his fork from the table, and it worried him when she noticed. “Sweetie, if you want to go Vegetarian that’s fine. You don’t need to feel bad… What’s wrong?”

Frank shook his head and tried to take a bite of green beans, but they fell off his fork and onto the table. 

“Frank?”

He wanted to be a Jellicle Cat.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank didn’t have a copy of _Cats_ at his father’s house where he spent his Wednesday nights and every other weekend. That was okay though, because Dad’s house was safe. Nothing bad had ever happened to him there, in the entirety of the three years his father had lived there. Not one bad thing.

Except the time his Dad forced him to eat a hamburger and told him to stop being a baby when it made him cry. Now, after his ex-wife called him and yelled at him, Frank got soy burgers at his father’s house and there was nothing left to argue about.

“Frank, I got us tickets to go see Spider Man tonight,” his father said as Frank climbed into his car. Frank quickly wiped a stray tear off his cheek with the heel of his hand and shoved his bag of clothes into the back seat. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Frank sniffed and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Ronnie’s going to make me eat ribs on Saturday.”

“You’re really into this Vegetarian thing, aren’t you?” His father asked as he backed out of the driveway. “Are you okay to go see Spider Man?”

“Yeah,” Frank said quietly. More tears fell and Frank tried hard to wipe them away discreetly. 

“I can come over and talk to this Ronnie guy if you need me to. I don’t want some Joe Shmo upsetting my kid.”

“Don’t,” Frank whispered, afraid to sound forceful. When he’d been little he used to yell a lot—probably because that was all he heard at home—but now he kept his voice low.

“If you need me to,” his father said. 

Frank almost had his emotions under control before the tire of his father’s car collided with a pothole in the street. The jolt caused him to bounce in his seat and pain bolted through him, causing him to cry out and release several tears.

“Frankie, you okay?” His father asked. 

“Yes,” Frank said, managing to keep his voice from cracking.

“Are you hurt, son? Why are you crying?” His father kept looking at him and Frank turned his head away to look out the window of his car. It was winter and the moon was out in the dark sky.

_Moonlight. Turn your face to the moonlight._

Frank wanted to feel the same sort of calm the tape gave him when he thought of the lyrics, but it never came. He just felt sad, and a sense of longing overcame him.

He started sobbing and they never got to see Spider Man.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank woke up in his bed at his father’s house at five-thirty on Thursday morning because a loud door slammed outside.

“I hate it!” He heard someone scream. Frank grabbed his blankets and pulled them around his face to hide from a threat that couldn’t possibly see him. “I want to go home!”

“Then get your ass in that house because that _is_ home!” A woman screamed. “I’ve had just about enough of your attitude!”

Frank shuddered and buried himself further in the blankets. He guessed the house next door had been purchased. 

“Frank, you up?” It was his dad, whispering outside his door.

“Yes,” Frank answered. “How could I sleep through that?” He asked.

His dad laughed and went into the bathroom. Frank pulled himself out of the bed sheets and shivered from the chill of the bedroom. He’d ironed his school uniform before going to bed and had it hanging on the back of his closet door. He got himself dressed and tied his tie, even though school didn’t start until seven. 

“I’m going to make some breakfast,” his father called, following the flush of the toilet. “I got you some of that fake bacon stuff—that soy bacon…that-that fakin’ bacon. That _Facon!_ ”

Frank laughed and came out of his bedroom to follow his father down the stairs. 

“You’re funny,” Frank said. 

“I’m just glad you’re feeling better,” his Dad said as he clipped on the kitchen light. Frank wished his father hadn’t reminded him. Again, he tried to think of _Cats_ to soothe himself.

The only song that came to mind was the song of the St. James’ Cat.

The St. James’ Cat was fat…and Ronnie had said that Frank could do to lose a few pounds.

“Dad, am I overweight?” Frank asked as he sat down at the table. 

“Shut up, kid. What are you, a thirteen-year-old _girl?_ ” The words would have hurt his feelings had his father not rolled up his own shirt to let his…impressive…belly hang out. “What, did that Ronnie guy say you were overweight?”

His dad hated his mom’s new boyfriend. Frank didn’t like him either…but he never said a word to his mother about it. Before Ronnie, he would hear his mom crying at night and it made him feel bad. Now she was happy and it was his turn to cry at night…he didn’t find it fair, but he didn’t know what else to do. She was his mom and he wanted her to be happy…

“I just feel like…my uniform is getting tight.”

“You’re growing up. You’re gonna gain weight, then you’re gonna get tall. Well—tall _er._ Sorry, but genetics says you’re going to be short.”

Just then there was more commotion from the house next door. 

“I hate you for doing this! It’s not fair!”

“Oh, Gerard, just shut up before I give you something to yell about!”

Frank his stomach tighten and he stood from the table, thinking he was about to be sick.

“You okay?” His dad asked. “Do you need me to call you off school? You’re really pale.”

“No!” Frank said, running out of the room and into the downstairs bathroom. He had nothing in his stomach to throw up, but he kept gagging regardless. “I-I have to go! I have to!”

He couldn’t go home. Ronnie would be there…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank walked back to his mom’s house from school, trying not to shake. When he made it to his front porch, his hands were already shaking so badly that he dropped his keys. The noise alerted the only person inside who opened the door before Frank had even picked up his key ring. 

“How was Daddy’s house?” Ronnie asked, looking down on Frank like he was a scrap of raw meat. Ronnie didn’t look mean. He had a kind face, and he always dressed nice, but Frank saw the spark in his eyes and knew it was evil.

“Okay,” Frank said, hurrying into the house and letting Ronnie close the door behind him. He hurried into his room and took off his uniform, trembling as he did and staring at his door in fear. He managed to get his jeans on before Ronnie came in.

“What did you guys do?” Ronnie asked. “At Daddy’s house…”

“W-went to see Spider Man,” Frank lied. 

“Even though you were crying like a spoiled brat when you left?” Ronnie asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Frank held his t-shirt in his hands and trembled, no sure if he was allowed to put it on or not. 

“I wasn’t—”

“Get on your bed.” Ronnie uncrossed his arms and stepped into his room. Frank shook his head and squeezed his t-shirt tighter. Things were starting to get out of hand…he wanted to tell so badly, but Ronnie had him trapped. “Get on your bed, or would you like to see your house go up in flames from a grilling accident the day after tomorrow?” 

Frank felt tears come to his eyes as he turned around and took a step towards his bed. Ronnie came quickly up behind him and grabbed him by the back of his head. He was shoved face-first onto the mattress, but he knew better than to cry out.

Ronnie got on top of him, and Frank began to weep. Desperately, he tried to think of anything to distract himself from what was coming. In his head, he rushed to his blue-tinted fantasy world where he could dance with the grace of those anthropomorphic cats.

He wanted to be a Jellicle Cat.

Frank sobbed when the man started hurting him. He didn’t know what to make of what was happening. It just hurt so terribly. He wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted it all to be over.

Desperately he tried to think of happiness dancing around on stage with the Cats.

He wanted to be a Jellicle Cat. He wanted to be Magical Mr. Mistoffelees…Mistoffelees was probably the happiest cat. He was a magician. He could—

Frank was brought out of his protective thoughts by the harsh grip of pain. 

Mistoffelees could disappear—Frank just wanted to disappear.

He tried to think of Mistoffelees’ song, but all that came to him were lyrics to sadder songs.

( ) ( ) ( )

“What were you doing in Frank’s room?” 

“He came home from school crying—said his dad yelled at him.”

Frank punched his pillow as hard as he could and wrapped himself up in his sheets. His mom had come home early from work and Ronnie hardly had time to pull his pants back up before she was knocking on the door. Frank wished she’d just come in—come in and see so he wouldn’t have to tell her. He didn’t want it to be his fault that she would have to go back to being all alone just so he could be safe.

Now Ronnie was going to get Dad in trouble, and his dad was the only person who was _ever_ nice to him! His dad and his grandpa were his two best friends, and Ronnie was going to get them taken away.

“I’d better talk to him,” his mother said softly. 

“No—No, just give him a little space.”

“Ronnie, get out of my way! He’s my son, it’s my ex-husband! I can handle this.” She didn’t knock before coming in, and Frank caught Ronnie’s irritated sigh before the bedroom door closed. “Frank, what happened?”

She came over to the bed and sat down beside him, running a gentle hand over his shoulder that was wrapped in sheets.

“Oh, Sweetheart, you’re all sweaty—what’s wrong?” She tried to pull his sheets away, but Frank wouldn’t let go. He didn’t have his t-shirt on yet, and his pants were punched up around his ankles under his blanket.

“I’m sick!” Frank cried into his pillow, desperate to keep his face hidden because he knew how hard he’d been crying and he didn’t want her to see.

“What happened at your dad’s? Was it the meat thing, Honey?”

“Dad didn’t yell at me,” Frank wept. “Dad took me to see Spider Man, a-and bought me Vegetarian b-bacon.”

“So why are you crying?” She asked, rubbing his shoulder. “Why did you tell Ronnie your dad upset you?”

“I-I…” Frank was about to say that he hadn’t, but he heard Ronnie bump up against the door. “I d-don’t know,” Frank lied, crying harder.

“You can’t lie about your dad like that…”

“D-don’t let him hi-hit me,” Frank whimpered in a voice so quiet he hoped Ronnie wouldn’t hear.

“No one’s going to hit you,” she whispered, sensing his fear. “Has Ronnie been hitting you?” She asked even more quietly. 

“Wh-when you tell him to,” Frank lied. 

“Baby, you know better than to lie…You don’t lie to me. Why are you lying to Ronnie?” Frank fed her more lies and felt like he were about to fall to pieces under the weight of his sadness. She didn’t know what was happening to him, but he felt like she should and that she should save him. “Well…take a nap and I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner.”

Frank lay face down on his bed, still crying through the aftershocks of pain. He wanted to go to his mother and tell her he wasn’t feeling sick, that he was crying because her boyfriend was hurting him, but he just remembered how happy she was with Ronnie and closed his eyes.

He remembered when Ronnie first met his mom. They met at the grocery store and recognized each other from church. He’d been polite and friendly and just…wonderful. He offered to pay for Frank’s guitar lessons and even bought him his very first electric guitar—with all the amps and everything. 

Frank thought Ronnie was great. He even started to idolize him while he and his mother had first been dating. That had been two years ago. Soon, his mom had given Ronnie a key to the house and he’d made a point to be at the house to pick things up for her and sometimes make a meal so she wouldn’t have to.

On rainy days, or days when it was really cold, Ronnie would even drive Frank home from school. Ronnie was the first person he’d told about the “strange things” happening with his body. He went to Catholic school—they didn’t talk about what was going on. And he was afraid to talk to his dad because…what if his dad thought he was a freak? What if there was something wrong with him?

Yeah, Frank had thought it was a little strange when Ronnie showed him that _all_ male bodies did what his was doing, but the relief to know he wasn’t a freak overpowered his aversions. 

For a long time, Frank thought Ronnie was cool, and hoped that his mom would marry him so he could have another dad, because dads were cool and he missed spending every day with his father. He’d even asked his mom when they’d get married and she’d laughed and said, “I don’t know, Frank. Hopefully soon?”

She was so happy with Ronnie. He took her on dates, and took her to places where she had to wear really nice dresses that made her glow. He bought her jewelry, and on Christmas he gave her brand-name purse that had her gasping and giggling like a child.

Frank had thought they were about to be living the good life forever, until one day Ronnie decided to take over “punishments.”

Frank wasn’t a perfect Christian boy, and his school liked to point that out physically when he did something wrong. And his mom had a rule that if he was punished at school, he’d be punished at home—and the school made a point to send home a letter that needed signed whenever a student got paddled in the head master’s office.

“Oh, Frank! You know I hate this,” his mother said when he handed her the note. Ronnie had come up behind her and hugged her around the waist and asked her what was wrong. She told him and the gaze he fixed on Frank had made his skin go cold.

“I’ll take care of it,” Ronnie said. His mom had turned to look at him coldly. 

“You know, I don’t think so,” she said. “That’s—”

“Honey, the man should be the bad guy—not the mom. It goes against nature. Let me handle it.”

“No,” she’d protested. “I-I can’t have you _hit_ my son—if my ex-husband found out…God help me, if he found out.”

“Now, Linda…I raised my three younger brothers. I know how hard to hit and how hard not to hit…”

“Maybe…I think he’s getting too old for _that…_ ”

“High school,” Ronnie had said. “Once they’re in high school you stop. At least that’s how it was for me.”

Frank had stood there with his future being negotiated. With his mom, he could always try to talk her out of hitting him—but Ronnie just seemed excited about doing it. Somehow, she’d given in and surrendered him over to her boyfriend.

When his parents had been married, his father used to beat him with a belt when he was bad. Ronnie did the same, but never had Frank been hit so hard for so long, and left in so much pain. He swore he would never pass notes to Tommy Benson or any other student ever again.

He never trusted Ronnie after that, and tried to tell his mom that he didn’t trust Ronnie anymore, but he saw how much his opinion mattered to her when she said she’d leave Ronnie if he asked. She asked if he wanted her to and looked heartbroken. Frank felt bad and said no.

After that, Ronnie took over all punishments. Frank would’ve said his behavior had never been better, but whenever he’d gone too long without a beating, Ronnie would invent a reason to hit him with the belt. His mother always reluctantly went along with it, and Frank always took it back when he tried to tell his mom that he was afraid of Ronnie.

Now, as he lay in bed crying and trying to understand why all of this was happening, he wished he’d told her sooner. Now it had gone on so long that he was afraid that if he spoke up, no one would believe him anyway. 

His mom didn’t believe him when he told her that Ronnie made him take his pants down when he got hit with the belt, why would she believe that he’d started putting things inside of him?

( ) ( ) ( )

Ronnie had thrown a half-back of ribs onto Frank’s plate and covered them in barbecue sauce before he could protest. Frank felt sick just looking at the flesh and bones, and thought about how he would feel if someone slaughtered his family to eat the meat off of their ribs. 

“Just eat it,” his mother whispered in his ear when he sat down slowly at the table. It was too cold out to be grilling, and he knew Ronnie only did this to make him sad. “For God’s sake, Frank. You weren’t complaining about meat last year.”

Frank did what she said, trying not to gag the entire time. He didn’t do it to appease her, he’d just seen the belt Ronnie was wearing and knew he was afraid of it. It had little brass studs all the way around it, and even though Ronnie said he flipped it over when he used it to spank, he lied. 

The more meat he ate, the sicker he felt. He started to get choked up when he saw the way the meat split under his fork. He thought of the poor animal was eating and couldn’t hold back anymore. He bolted up from the table and ran to the bathroom where he got violent ill and was left shaking on the floor.

He’d get yelled at by his mother for embarrassing her and being rude. Ronnie would punish him later for it whether she knew or not, and he was scared. He wanted to go to his dad’s house—he wanted to watch _Cats._

“Frank?” His mother stared knocking on the door. Her voice was unforgiving and Frank started weeping. “Frank, it won’t kill you to eat a little meat.” He wished he could tell her why he was crying—he wished they could be open again. Why did his parents have to divorce? The church looked down on all of them now, and his dad wasn’t around to protect him.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ronnie said from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry,” his mother said. “He’s going through this faze…”

“I got it,” Ronnie said. “I’ll talk to him.”

“W-well, don’t beat him, or anything. He-He’s _not_ in trouble.”

“No, Linda, Honey—I’m just gonna talk to him about his choice to not eat meat and who it’s affecting. A vegetarian diet, Sweety, he’ll need _so much_ extra food just to get the right nutrients—the school could think you’re starving him if he loses weight.”

“I-I never thought of that…”

Frank laid on the bathroom and cried. He felt so helpless. Ronnie wasn’t going to talk to him. He knew what Ronnie was going to do, and he was scared. He wanted his mom to stay with him—it was getting so hard not to hate her for letting this happen right under her nose.

She was supposed to protect him! 

( ) ( ) ( )

Ronnie had left around midnight, and his mom had gone to bed. Frank couldn’t sleep. He’d brushed his teeth, but the taste was still there. The pork, the vomit, the semen Ronnie forced down his throat…

He took his tape of _Cats_ out from under his bed and snuck downstairs to watch it. He kept the volume low, and sat as close to the TV as he could. It took longer and longer each time for the tape to work its magic. It used to be as soon as the commercials were over he felt relaxed, then he had to see Victoria stretch and dance, now he needed the first bits of Memory to be sung before he could feel the tension leave him.

There was a cat called Rum Tum Tugger who sang really well and strutted around the stage really well. Frank was afraid to say that Tugger was his favorite cat. He wanted really badly to like Victoria or one of the girl cats better, but Tugger was so…

He was his favorite. 

He sang about going against the norm and being defiant. Frank wanted to be like Rum Tum Tugger. He wanted to be tough and sleek and…

Frank knew he was a man dressed as a cat, and not a real cat or a weird half-person, half-cat. 

Frank felt weird about Tugger. He liked watching him walk around the stage.

Frank tried really hard to keep his thoughts contained, because he didn’t think he could watch _Cats_ anymore if he knew he had a crush on the sassy, tall, black cat. He wished he could be just a tiny bit as confident and well-spoken as Tugger.

If he were in the play—if he were a Jellicle Cat—he would be one of the many kittens in love with him.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Sweetheart, why are you sleeping on the floor?” Frank sat up quickly when he felt someone touch his shoulder. “Frank—it’s six o’clock. You gotta get ready for school. When did we buy _Cats?_ ”

“Sorry, Mom,” Frank said, ejecting the tape quickly and taking it quickly back to his room after picking up the box off the floor. 

He hid his tape under his bed and crept into the bathroom to take his shower. He used to love getting showers, which probably made him a weird kid, but after the things Ronnie put him through, Frank couldn’t even stand to touch his own body. He hated seeing himself without clothes on, hated scrubbing his skin no matter how hard he tried to pretend he was actually washing the sins away.

Frank couldn’t even use the bathroom without feeling sick, ashamed, and humiliated. His touch reminded him of Ronnie’s hands and he hated himself for letting it all happen. 

“Frank!” When his mother screamed his name, Frank nearly fell down from the shock.

“Mom?” Frank asked, starting to shake and sliding down the side of the tub. She’d never hurt him, but he was afraid that she would come in and yell, or come in ready to strike. 

“I know you’re growing up, but you’ve _gotta_ stop doing this in your bed—your sheets are all… _crusty_ and gross. Do it in there—wash it down the drain or use a tissue. _Please._ ” Her voice hinted at how incredibly uncomfortable she was saying it, but he was glad she didn’t ask Ronnie to talk to him about it.

Ronnie would talk about it while adding more to the sheets. Frank never even touched himself in that way…not on his own, at least. He felt sick to his stomach just from the thought. He hated his body, and hated the feelings that came with that “pleasure.” He just felt dirty and gross and ashamed.

Frank whispered that he was sorry and turned the water up hotter. He wanted to burn. He wished he could burn to death in the shower. He wished he could get away from his home, but not leave his mom. He wished he could live with Dad and visit Mom every Wednesday and every other weekend. 

( ) ( ) ( )

It was his dad’s weekend, and Frank had never been more terrified and more excited at the same time. He was waiting for his dad to pull up outside the house, and had all his clothes packed and even packed some CDs he wanted his dad to listen to. 

As he stared out the window, Ronnie stood behind him watching also. Ronnie said he was going to talk to his dad…Frank was so afraid of what Ronnie was going to say. 

“Th-that’s his car,” Frank stammered as his father slowed down and stopped out front. When Frank tried to hurry to the door, but Ronnie grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“No. You sit down,” Ronnie said. Frank sank back onto the couch, but he couldn’t really sit. “I’m gonna talk to him and you’re gonna sit right there.” Frank swallowed hard and watched as his dad turned off the engine of his car and stared walking towards the house.

Ronnie stepped out the front door and Frank watched through the window, holding his breath. His dad shook Ronnie’s hand and they exchanged greetings. His dad saw him in the window, but when Ronnie turned to look Frank ducked down on the couch to hide.

They talked for about fifteen minutes before Ronnie called to him. Frank trembled at the sound of his voice, but grabbed his bag and hurried towards the door. 

“Don’t keep your dad waiting,” Ronnie said as he ushered Frank to his father’s car even though his dad was giving him a strange look. 

Ronnie took his bag from him and put it into the backseat so Frank didn’t have to and Frank managed to mutter out a thank you before hurrying into the passenger seat of his dad’s car. 

His father said goodbye to Ronnie before getting back in the car, then he fixed Frank with a strange, almost angry look before starting to drive.

Frank wanted to ask what Ronnie had said, but he was afraid it would be bad so he just stared at his shoes. 

“So…do you want to tell me why you told your principal that I was beating you, Frank?” His father sounded disappointed and angry. Frank started shaking.

“I-I didn’t, Dad,” Frank said. He hardly sounded convincing when he was a shaking, crying mess. 

“Right…so Ron is lying?”

Frank bit his lip hard and tried to think of something to say. Ronnie was going to ruin his relationship with his dad, the only friend he had left, and there was nothing Frank could do.

“What’s gotten into you?” His father asked. “Why would you lie like that, Frank?”

“I d-didn’t,” Frank whimpered. “Dad, I didn’t.”

“Kid, cut the crap.” His father was angry…really angry. “I can’t believe you’d…I thought we got along when you stay over.”

“We do,” Frank whispered. “Dad, I never told my principal anything.”

“Don’t lie to me! Damnit, Frank! They can revoke my custody—I could not get to see you at all!”

Frank lowered his head further and started to sob. He knew he could fix this with one simple phrase. He knew he could end all of the suffering, but he was afraid. Afraid he’d hurt his mom. Afraid no one would believe him…

Ronnie had all the power in the world, it felt, and it left Frank feeling helpless. One word from Ronnie and Frank got beaten, got grounded, got yelled at…had his weekends ruined. He’d been looking forward to this weekend so much. They were finally going to get to see Spider Man and listen to music together. Now, Frank was going to sit in his bedroom and feel horrible for a lie he never even told. 

His father told him to go to his room as soon as they stepped into the house, and Frank listened. He would’ve run if he could, but Ronnie saw to it that it was almost impossible to walk. As soon as he reached his bedroom the tears burst out of him. The force of them almost knocked him to the floor.

It felt like his life was over. Ronnie had won. Ronnie controlled everything. 

Frank managed to lie face down in his bed and smother his sobs in his pillow. He hated himself, he hated Ronnie, and now he felt like he hated everyone else, too. He had no one to turn to—no one he could even talk to. 

Since Ronnie started hurting him, he lost all his friends. No one came over to his house, and Ronnie refused to let him leave. 

After about an hour, there was a firm knock on Frank’s door. He wanted to pretend he was asleep, but he was terrified that that would just make his father angrier.

“The new neighbor lady invited us over for dinner. Get up and stop being a crybaby.”

Frank wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt and sat up slowly. He didn’t want to go to the neighbors’ house. They yelled when the first moved in, and they didn’t sound kind. And what if this woman wasn’t married? What if she started dating his dad and he had a Ronnie and a Jessica, or a Dawn or Britney. 

“Now!” His father shouted when Frank hesitated to get up.

Frank moved as quickly as he could to get out of bed and straighten his clothes. He wanted to ask if his dad wanted him to put on his uniform shirt to look more presentable, but didn’t get the chance. His father ordered him to move his ass and get downstairs. Frank didn’t say a word, and he didn’t let himself steal a glance of his miserable-looking face. 

He crept down the stairs, trying to disguise his limp. His father was already standing at the door, and Frank noticed how the man’s face softened when he saw him. Frank assumed he had to look a mess. 

“…did you tell your principal that I was hitting you?” he asked calmly. Frank didn’t know how to answer. He would _never_ tell a lie like that about his dad.

“No, Dad,” Frank said. “The school made a mistake—maybe they called the wrong number…”

His father still looked disappointed and didn’t comment. 

“Let’s go. The neighbor lady wants to introduce you to her kids.”

Frank wanted to joke about how angry the people had sounded when they moved in, but he no longer felt any shred of humor left inside him. He was afraid he’d be yelled at for not being happy enough, or acting pleasant enough, but he was even more afraid to feel happy or relieved. Ronnie would just destroy the good feelings with the wave of his hand. Frank no longer wanted to feel anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Frank felt like a kicked and bloodied dog when his father introduced him to the neighbors. His face was still red and his eyes, he knew, were bloodshot and stinging. If there were ever suspicions that his father was treating him poorly, there certainly would be now.

The woman who answered the door when his father knocked was a short woman with an incredible mane of bleached-blonde hair. She wore too much makeup, but smelled really nice when she gave Frank an unwanted hug. 

Why was it that adults felt they had the right to hug every short kid they saw? Especially women. Frank hated hugs. He hated being touched…

“Hi, Frank,” she said as she finally released him. “You look like you’ve been having a rough day.”

Was it really polite to ask a kid with tears on his face if he’d had a bad day? Frank _didn’t_ like this woman. He didn’t want her near his dad.

When Frank didn’t answer her, his father smacked him on the shoulder. He had no idea how badly the contact actually hurt, but Frank managed to stifle any noise that threatened to come out.

“Go on,” his father said as the woman—Donna—showed them into her house. Frank entered the home slowly, looking around for anything he might accidentally bump and break. He didn’t need in any more trouble, and if his dad really did try to beat him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure. 

“You didn’t tell me your son was so shy,” Donna said, her voice kind of raspy. Frank didn’t like it…

“He’s usually not,” his father said. 

“My oldest is really shy—I mean _really_ shy.” She led them through her smoky dining room into the living room where an older man sat on the couch. Frank felt filled with both relief and fear. She was married, so there was no way she was going to steal his dad away…but what if he was left at this woman’s house to babysat for some reason. Was this guy mean? Was he like Ronnie, too? “This is my husband Don—Don, this is Frank’s son Frank.” She laughed as if a father giving his name to his son was the funniest thing in the world. 

“Hey, Frank,” Don said before turning his eyes back to the TV. “What’s for dinner?”

Donna sighed and looked down at Frank with a strange gaze. He turned away from her and pretended he could disappear. If he were in better condition, he probably would have hidden behind his father, but he and his dad weren’t friends anymore. Ronnie had stolen that, too.

Ronnie took everything.

“Are you okay?” Donna asked, looking him over. 

“He’s just afraid you’re going to make him eat meat—don’t worry, I told her about you.” His dad rubbed his shoulder gently, grazing the bruise on Frank’s collarbone. Frank winced, but tried to keep his composure. He was frightened. He was tense…he wanted to go home and watch _Cats._

“I made some tofu ravioli for you, and I made this all organic tomato sauce for it. If you don’t like that, though, I have some eggplant lasagna left over from last night.” 

“I-It’s fine,” Frank stammered. It was weird having someone fuss over him. He couldn’t help but wonder what she wanted from him. People weren’t nice unless they wanted something.

“Alright—you guys can have a seat at the table and I’ll get my boys.” She started to leave the living room but noticed her husband hadn’t moved. “Don.”

“Hm?” The man hummed, staring at the TV. “Yeah—eggplant is healthy.”

“Don.”

“Hm?”

“Dinner, Don. Go sit at the table.” She talked to him like he was one of her kids. In a way it was soothing because she had control of the house, and Don had more interest in what was going on on the television instead of Frank.

“Right. Oh, right—finally.” Don got up from his seat stiffly and walked towards Frank and his father. 

Frank let his instinct take over and he hid himself behind his father like a small child.

“That’s precious,” Donna said, laughing softly. “Michael! Gerard! It’s dinner!”

“I’m not hungry!” Someone immediately screamed back.

“Finally!” Someone else screamed before there was a pounding on the stairs as one of Donna’s children burst into view.

“Mikey, go get your brother up here,” Donna said as soon as Mikey reached the dining room. Mikey was taller than Frank, but not by much. He had glasses and hair that was shaggy and all over his face. 

He had on an Iron Maiden shirt, and Frank thought they might have something to talk about.

“Mommy, don’t make me,” Mikey whined, putting on the voice of a small child.

“Get your brother up here,” she annunciated. 

“But, _Mom…_ ” He never added on, and he was already in the process of going into the kitchen where he disappeared from sight.

“Like I said,” Donna said, pointing to the seat where she wanted Frank to sit. “My oldest is really shy—Gerard! Ass to the table, now!”

“No!” Gerard screamed. Donna sighed and Frank felt himself beginning to shiver when he saw her face twist with rage. 

“Gerard, we have company, get up here _now!_ ” Donna screamed. Her husband sat at the table with the same vacant expression he’d had when watching TV. 

“And I thought Frank was bad,” Frank’s father said with a laugh. He sat down in the chair beside Frank’s, and Frank sank down into his seat slowly, wincing from pain. His father noticed and looked at him with confusion. He was probably deciding whether or not to think that Frank was actually hurt, or if he was acting like he’d been beaten.

“You have no idea—Don, get him up here,” Donna said, going into the kitchen to retrieve her food. “Mikey, help me carry this.” Mikey mumbled something and Donna growled deep in her throat. “I do not care. Pick that up, or I _will_ slap you.”

Mikey mumbled out a series of mocking “mur” sounds and appeared in the dining room carrying a big serving plate and a basket of dinner rolls. 

“ _Don,_ please go get Gerard!”

“Gerard, come upstairs or you’re grounded,” Don called absently. There was absolutely nothing supporting his threat.

“Fine!” Gerard screamed. Frank flinched at the intensity of his voice, and glanced at Mikey. The other boy seemed calm, so Frank guessed that there really was no danger in the rising voices.

“Hi, I’m Mikey,” the other boy said before falling into his seat so hard that the wood cracked.

“Stop doing that, Mikey,” Don said.

Donna set down a casserole dish full of food, and then set a pre-prepared plate in front of Frank.

“Let me know how that tastes, dear,” she said. “Gerard, now!”

“I said ‘fine!’” Gerard cried. Suddenly, another figure appeared in the kitchen doorway. Frank looked up at him cautiously and noticed he had a black eye. It looked like he’d been attempting to cover it with makeup and eyeliner, but the dark, reddish bruise showed through. “Sorry I was trying to fix my face for your guests.”

“Stop,” Donna said, kissing her son on the cheek even though he turned his face away from her and sat down beside Mikey at the table. “Gerard, this is Frank.”

“I already met Frank,” the older boy grumbled. 

“Yes, well…Not that Frank, his son Frank.”

“I hate it when people name their kids after themselves,” Gerard muttered. “Be original.”

“Don’t be rude,” Don spat. 

Frank stared at Gerard as if the boy had him in some kind of trance. He was wearing just a plain black shirt, and plain black jeans, but his hair was black and long and greasy and messy. And he had cool eyes, and he spoke his mind…

Frank felt his breath catch in his chest. 

“It’s not rude,” Gerard mumbled. “I’m allowed to speak my mind, it’s a free country.”

“You can be as rude as you want, you’re not going back downstairs,” Donna said firmly before finally taking her seat. 

Frank heard his father sigh heavily and bet that he’d never be allowed to hang out with Mikey or Gerard after this. 

“Help yourselves, everyone,” Donna said, trying to sound friendly even though her voice just came across as tired.

“Wait—Wait,” Gerard said, peering across the table at Frank who wanted to sink through his seat. “What’s he eating?”

“It’s vegetarian—you’re not vegetarian,” Donna said.

“I could be,” Gerard muttered. “I want what he’s eating…”

“You always want what other people have—get your food and eat,” Don said firmly. Gerard frowned and looked at Frank a little coldly.

Mikey and Gerard were both older than Frank, but while Mikey looked to be about fifteen at the most, Gerard looked a lot older. He seemed like one of those cool kids who wore leather jackets and had tattoos. Frank wished he could be tough like them…then Ronnie would never ever touch him again.

If he could be cool like Mikey and Gerard…

“Frank, what music do you listen to?” Mikey asked, squirming around in his seat and adjusting his glasses. 

“Um…Iron Maiden,” Frank mumbled. 

“Wow, Frank can read,” Gerard mumbled.

“Gerard, fine,” Donna snapped. “Go to your room. Just take your plate and go downstairs.”

“No,” Gerard said, fixing her with a weird look. “I’m here now. Why would I go back downstairs?” Donna sighed heavily and shook her head.

“Unbelievable,” she moaned.

Frank stared at Gerard with a look that mirrored awe. The black outfit, the defiance…Gerard was just like Rum Tum Tugger, the coolest cat in _Cats._

A blush crept over Frank’s face and he started eating as quickly as he could. The organic sauce, or whatever it was that Donna made, wasn’t that fantastic, but Frank knew better than to complain. 

“I like rockin’ out,” Mikey said for no real reason before clanging his fork rhythmically on his plate.

“Micheal,” Donna said, interrupting her conversation with Frank’s father.

“Mikey, you suck at drums. Quit,” Gerard said, laughing. Frank stole another glimpse of Gerard’s face and took note of his teeth. They were so tiny…like baby teeth. Frank felt his stomach flutter and squirmed in his seat. 

Gerard made him feel strange…

Gerard was…like Rum Tum Tugger…Gerard was…

Frank felt his breathing become uneven, and when he realized what was happening and he fell out of his seat. When he felt the front of his pants growing tight, he instantly felt nauseous. 

“Frank, are you okay?” His dad asked, reaching out a hand to help him up. Frank swallowed hard but couldn’t get his legs underneath him. He couldn’t control his feelings, and the shame started eating at him and burning him like acid. 

“Y-Yes,” Frank stammered. He tried standing up, but when he moved it brought his attention back to what was happening with his body and he felt terrified. 

“Mom, what did you do? Poison him?” Gerard asked. He grimaced in what looked to be humor and concern. He looked…Frank liked the way he looked and…

“Yeah, he looks kinda sick…” Mikey added.

Frank tried to regain his composure, embarrassed that he was acting this way after Donna had gone through so much trouble to make him something special for dinner, and now she was going to think he had food poisoning when he was really just…

“The bathroom’s right up the stairs, if you think you’re going to be—”

Frank hurried in the direction she pointed and almost fell going up the steps. He hardly had time to make it to the bathroom before he started getting sick. Before he could even start throwing up, he started crying and shivering. He kept expecting Ronnie to burst in and start hitting him. He waited for Ronnie to come in and say the horrible, humiliating things.

Frank felt so ashamed. Why was he getting hard when he looked at that other boy? Why was it happening when he didn’t want it to? He was so embarrassed. What would Gerard say if he saw? He’d know he was a freak…he didn’t want anyone else to know he was a freak.

He flushed the toilet when he finally stopped spitting and gagging, but couldn’t get himself off of the floor. He tried so hard to stop crying, but he couldn’t. 

Even when someone knocked on the door, all Frank could do was manage a gasp before collapsing back into tears. 

He felt so terrible. He didn’t need Ronnie’s help ruining things—he messed everything up on his own.

“Hey,” the person on the other side of the door drawled. It sounded like Gerard, and that snapped Frank out of his daze. He choked back several sobs and wiped his face quickly. 

“U-um, I-I’ll be down in a m-minute,” Frank stammered, glancing at himself in the mirror and feeling like he might throw up again when he saw how pathetic he looked.

“Okay,” Gerard answered. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Frank stuttered. “I-I think I have the flu.” He turned on the faucet and splashed water over his face and took some into his mouth hoping to wash out the taste. Fortunately, his bout of gagging had rid him of the gross, humiliating hard-on so Gerard wouldn’t see. 

“I think Mom’s cooking made you sick—can I come in? They told me to check on you.”

“Um…” Frank looked at his reflection in the mirror and realized with a crushing anguish that he looked horrible, and Gerard was going to see him looking like an idiot. 

“Come on—I won’t bite…much.”

Frank laughed softly and opened the door a crack. Gerard took his opportunity and stepped inside.

“So…” Gerard looked at him and then glanced around the bathroom as if it were his first time seeing it. “Why are you cryin’?” Gerard asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the floor.

“Because I was throwing up,” Frank mumbled. “Th-they go hand-in-hand right?”

“I mean before you went to throw up my mom’s poison.”

“I-I wasn’t,” Frank mumbled. Why was Gerard blocking his exit? What was he going to do?

“Yeah you were…Are you gonna talk about it?” Frank shook his head and Gerard looked a little disappointed.

“Okay. Guess we can go back downstairs and fill up on more poison. Mom’s heating up the eggplant shit she made last night for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank mumbled. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

“Why?” Gerard asked, looking at him weird. “Whatever. Come on. Before they yell at me and say I’m giving you a swirly or raping you or something.” Frank felt nauseous again, but couldn’t let himself run back into the bathroom. 

“I’m a guy,” Frank mumbled, wanting to slap himself once the words were out. Gerard looked at him like he were some kind of freak.

“Yeah, so?” he asked. 

“Guys can’t…rape guys,” Frank said. “That’s a…”

“Um…are you serious right now?” Gerard asked. He sounded pissed and Frank lost his footing on the stairs. “Rape goes both ways, fuckin’ idiot.” Gerard hurried past him as he recovered from almost falling down the steps. 

Frank wanted to just sit down on the stairs and cry. He’d ruined it. Whatever shot he had at being friends with Gerard and Mikey was blown. He felt so stupid, and he’d made Gerard _mad._

His mom had said rape was when a man forced a woman to have sex with him. His school, as a rule, didn’t talk about what sex was, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out how it worked. It was something men and _women_ did…because women had parts guys didn’t, and although Frank had no clue what those parts looked like—and no interest in finding out—he’d just assumed that that was the only way to have sex and make babies. 

When Frank sat down at the table, Donna kept talking to him and asking him if he felt okay. He couldn’t answer her because he was looking at Gerard who glared at him darkly.

How could a guy rape a guy?...Why would Gerard’s mother think Gerard would do that to Frank? Maybe he’d been making a joke, but who joked about that?

“Frank, what’s wrong?” Donna asked him.

“Mom, you poisoned him!” Mikey said. 

“N-No,” Frank said. “I-I think I caught something from school. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Donna said. “It’s not your fault.” 

Frank glanced at Gerard who looked so frighteningly angry. 

“If you don’t feel like eating, I can wrap that up for you and you can take it home,” Donna said. “Then you can bring the plate over tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Frank mumbled. Donna cleared the table once everyone had finished eating, and invited Frank’s dad to watch TV with her and her husband for a while before he went home. 

“Why don’t you boys go play in Gerard’s room?” Donna suggested. 

“Go play?” Gerard snapped. “What are we, ten?” Gerard stormed off to his bedroom and Mikey stood up, almost as if he were excited. 

“Okay,” Mikey said. “Yeah, Frank, let’s go. Gerard’s got some really cool comic books.”

“I-I don’t think…” Frank turned to look at his dad and saw that he looked happy to have new friends since the church had shunned him. He didn’t want to let him down by needing to go home to hide from his shame. “Okay,” Frank mumbled, getting up slowly and following Mikey towards the kitchen. 

Apparently, they made Gerard sleep in the basement. If Ronnie had his way, Frank was sure he’d live in the basement, too.

“I don’t want him in my room,” Gerard grumbled when Frank reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Why not?” Mikey asked, bouncing up and down on his brother’s bed. 

“Stop,” Gerard mumbled. “Go away.” 

“Not a chance. I’m not getting yelled at by Mom again.”

“I-I’m sorry about what I said,” Frank said quickly. 

“Why?” Mikey asked. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Gerard grumbled. “Can you guys please go upstairs? I want to sketch. You’re in my face.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank crept into his house, sort of expecting his dad to beat him for making a scene. Ronnie would if he’d been there. Frank spent so much time being afraid of Ronnie that he expected the same treatment from everyone.

“Want to tell me what happened over there?” His dad asked. Frank shrugged and started chewing on his bottom lip. He wanted to run to his room and hide, but he didn’t think his father would allow it. 

Ronnie wouldn’t.

“Frank, what’s going on with you?—Go sit on the couch. I want to talk to you.” Frank started shaking and walked slowly into his living room. He listened for any indication that his father was taking off his belt, but he heard nothing. It didn’t relieve him. “So, spill it. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Frank mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“You had a fucking panic attack at Donna’s table. Why? Did you find a piece of beef in your tofu or what?”

“No,” Frank said, chewing his lip anxiously. He really just wanted to go home and watch _Cats._

“Frank…you fell on the floor and threw up until you cried. You were crying when you got in my car last Wednesday, you threw up before you even got your breakfast on Thursday…You were sick this Wednesday, too. What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Nothi—”

“Stop saying nothing!” His father yelled. Frank started to tremble and stared out the window.

“G-Gerard reminded m-me of someone. I was s-surprised,” Frank lied, lowering his face.

“That’s not why you were crying all week…”

“I got in trouble with Ronnie last Wednesday,” Frank mumbled. 

“Does she let that man hit you?” His father asked. Frank shook his head slowly. “Frank, don’t lie to me. Why were you crying? Why can’t you sit still?”

“I-I’m nervous,” Frank whimpered. “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

“ _You’re_ scaring me. Why did you tell the school I beat you? I haven’t touched you since the divorce.”

Frank started shaking harder and stammered a few times before giving up. He felt like he might throw up again.

“What’s happening to you?” His dad asked. “Am I going to have to call your mom?”

“No!” Frank called out. If Ronnie found out he was making his dad suspicious…he’d leave his mom and she’d be sad again. He just didn’t understand his mom anymore. Why was she happier with Ronnie when Dad was cool and funny and nice?

“Why? What have you been telling your mom that you don’t want me to know?”

“Nothing,” Frank sobbed. 

“Fine. Put that plate in the fridge and go to your room.” Frank got up from the couch and hurried to do as he was told. He put his plate of eggplant lasagna in the fridge and ran up the stairs as quickly as he could so he could shut himself in his room before his dad heard him start to weep pathetically. 

He felt like such an idiot. He’d embarrassed himself in front of Gerard…and he really wanted Gerard to like him, then he embarrassed his father at diner…and made Donna feel bad about her food when it was fine. He was such a stupid, stupid, freak!

Frank started ripping at his hair and fell onto the floor of his room. It was no wonder Ronnie hurt him. It was no wonder Ronnie called him names and beat him all the time. He deserved it…Frank even found himself deserving it. Especially now… 

He wouldn’t blame Ronnie if he came into his room, even here at his father’s house, and started hitting him. 

Frank barely had time to think about it before he caught himself pounding his fists into his own skull as hard as he could. He was stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

Frank didn’t stop the attack until the pain was overwhelming and he felt lightheaded. His fists were tingling and numb, and through the pain he started feeling a little bit better.

He’d gotten what he deserved…now he could go to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Frank knocked on Donna’s door, holding her plate in his hand anxiously. He had eaten the leftovers for an early lunch, and his father ordered him to go return her plate and apologize again for embarrassing them both. 

Their whole weekend was going to be spent fighting, and Frank wished he could just go home and face Ronnie. There was no reason to fight it any more…Ronnie just gave him what he deserved.

The door to Donna’s house opened slowly, and Donna greeted him when she recognized him.

“Hi, Frankie. Are you feeling better today? Mikey told me you’d be dead for sure by morning.”

“I-I’m fine,” Frank mumbled. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Don’t be sorry about being sick. If I had a dollar for every time my boys threw up _at the table_ I’d be a wealthy woman—do you want to come in? Mikey’s home.”

“Um…my dad—”

“I’ll tell him you’re here—go on. Mikey’s upstairs.” Frank found himself pushed into the house and he felt his nerves start taking over. If his dad had plans and this interfered with them, he’d get in even more trouble…

“Okay,” Frank mumbled. 

“Mikey!” Donna called. “Frank’s here—come be sociable!” Frank flinched when she shouted, but she just ignored him. “I’m going to go talk to your dad—just put that plate on the kitchen counter.”

She seemed as if she were in a hurry and closed the door tightly behind her. Frank heard a slow stomping on the stairs and Mikey appeared, looking drained.

“Sup? I’m tired…Gerard and I stayed up all night playing Mario…do you play Mario?”

“No,” Frank said slowly. 

“Oh, then you have to! Come on—he’s got a TV down there to play on.” Frank was led into the kitchen where he dropped off the plate and then Mikey led him down to the basement. “Gee, Frank is here again! Watch him for a minute, I need to take a shit.”

Frank was close to trembling when Mikey disappeared back up the steps. He stared at Gerard’s turned back and swallowed hard.

“H-hey,” Frank mumbled. “S-sorry about yesterday.”

“Why?” Gerard asked bitterly. “It’s not your fault you’re stupid.”

“I-I go to Catholic school,” Frank mumbled. 

“Like I said,” Gerard stated, turning around in his desk chair. “It’s not your fault you’re stupid. You do know what sex is right? At least?” Gerard looked at him with both eyebrows raised and laughed. He was wearing eyeliner and Frank started feeling the weird feeling again.

“Y-yeah,” Frank stammered. “I just…between guys how does that even…” Frank felt himself beginning to blush and couldn’t figure out why. 

“Um…you’re joking. You’re _not_ that sheltered,” Gerard said, laughing and turning back to his desk. He appeared to be sketching something. He was so cool…

“One time a kid in the park tried to buy drugs from me,” Frank said, feeling stupider the more he spoke. “I didn’t even realize what he wanted from me until my friend Johnny Stevens told me.”

“Yeah, you’re _that_ sheltered,” Gerard said with a sigh. 

“He just kept saying ‘you’ve got the stuff, right? You’ve got the stuff?’ How was I supposed to know?”

“Guys have sex…the same way men and women have sex,” Gerard mumbled. “They just do it in the ass since they don’t have a vagina.”

“W-wait…what?” Frank asked, swallowing hard and feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Gerard turned around in his seat and stared at Frank in shock. Frank would’ve felt stupid if he didn’t think he was about to throw up.

“Dick in the ass,” Gerard annunciated, looking at Frank like he was stupid. “Or in the mouth—it’s pretty good there, too.” Frank started trembling and noticed that Gerard’s expression became harsh. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I…I didn’t know th-that…”

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you Catholic?” Gerard asked, staring at him and making him feel tiny.

“Y-yeah…”

“Then don’t you hear about your priests raping altar boys?” Frank shook his head and started chewing his lip hard. “Are you okay?”

“Guys can…” Frank started shaking and sat down on the floor because he felt his knees were going to give out.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, getting up from his seat. “Relax—I didn’t mean it when I said I was going to do you in the bathroom. I said before my parents _thought_ I would…”

“I-I know,” Frank said, shaking hard. Was that what Ronnie was doing to him? But why would he do that? They went to the same church! That was a sin! He had Mom—why would Ronnie do things with him when he had Mom?

“Kid? It’s not that shocking—bad things can happen to anybody. Women and men both, I mean…creeps have no limits.” Frank was too shaken to answer him or even pretend to be okay. 

Ronnie was raping him? 

“Hey, what’s wrong with Frank?” Mikey asked as he came back down the stairs. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard mumbled. “He started freaking out when I was talking about guy-rape.”

“Gerard, you’re weird,” Mikey said, sitting down beside Frank. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank stammered. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get the look of fear to stay off his face. “I-I’m fine.”

“Sorry I said priests were rapists,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Dude,” Mikey hissed. “His family is like staunch Catholic! You can’t say that!”

“Dude,” Gerard repeated. “They got a divorce—they can’t be _that_ God-fearing.”

“D-Dad wants me back home,” Frank lied, getting to his feet quickly. “I have to go.” He knew he looked like an idiot when he left the house without really saying goodbye or explaining why he was so upset.

( ) ( ) ( )

“How was Daddy’s?” Ronnie asked as soon as Frank crept into his house. It was Monday afternoon, and he’d spent a full day in school trying to stay under the radar so no teacher would call on him and ask him speak.

“It sucked, thanks to you,” Frank whispered, knowing he was going to get beaten…knowing he was going to be raped.

“Get in your room,” Ronnie hissed. 

“Why?” Frank asked. Ronnie grabbed him by his hair and started dragging him. Frank tried to fight, but Ronnie moved as easily as if he weren’t being opposed.

“Just wait ‘til your mom gets home, Frank. Just you wait.”

Frank bit his lip and quickly corrected his behavior. When Ronnie waited until his mom came home from work to punish him, it was a beating. But worse than the beating, it meant his mother would be upset with him, usually when he’d done nothing wrong.

“What are you going to do?” Frank whimpered, backing towards his bed. 

“You’re gonna find out. And if you don’t go along with it, I’m gonna dump your mom tonight. And do you know what I’ll tell her? Huh?” Frank shook his head and cowered. “I’m going to say that I get the feeling you don’t like me, and although she’s a _great_ woman, _you_ aren’t ready for a new daddy. And because of _you,_ I don’t feel comfortable in this relationship, because _you_ aren’t ready to have another man in your life. Because _you_ are too selfish to share her attention.”

Frank started crying because he knew that Ronnie was right. No matter who his mother dated, he’d always want her to go back to his dad. 

“Now quit bawling your fucking eyes out, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Frank whimpered softly and backed another step away.

“Shut up. Stay quiet, and let me talk to your mom when she gets home. And remember what I said…Don’t make it so you’re the reason your mom is alone for the rest of her life.” Ronnie slammed the bedroom door and Frank collapsed onto his bed.

The anticipation was so much worse than the actual attack. He hated lying in bed worrying about what Ronnie would say and how his mom would react and what would happen to him. 

He heard his mom’s car pull into the driveway and felt sick to his stomach. He was going to throw up—he was going to be sick and there was nowhere to run to. His trashcan was whicker and had no bag in it—his window had a screen he couldn’t open. If he ran for the bathroom, Ronnie would stop him.

Frank curled up on his beg and gagged repeatedly, is own retching blocking out his mother’s first happy, then suddenly unhappy voice.

“But—But he’s been good lately,” his mother whined. “Oh…let me talk to him.” There were three seconds before she started knocking on his bedroom door harshly. “Frank?”

“Mom?” Frank responded. He wanted to tell her—he wanted to tell her so badly. Ronnie was hurting him and Ronnie was raping him. He needed her to help! Couldn’t she make him stop?

But then she’d be alone…and it’d be his fault, because he was the one who got himself into trouble. If he hadn’t been rude to Ronnie when he got home, he wouldn’t be here now…

“Frank, what’s gotten into you? What did you do this time to get in trouble at school?” Frank clutched his pillow and sobbed.

“I didn’t,” he cried, even though Ronnie’s threat hovered over his head.

“Ronnie told me he saw you tearing up the note outside. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Frank wept, holding his pillow as tightly as he could. He wished it could hold him back and keep him safe. 

“Frank…it’s only going to be worse if you lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Frank whimpered.

“Frank, Ronnie wouldn’t lie about this. What did you do to get in trouble? You know if you don’t turn in that letter you get called into the office again. Then they call home. You can’t hide this…”

Frank sobbed hard and buried his face in the pillow, hoping he would suffocate. 

“What did you do to get in trouble?” She asked. “If you don’t tell me…you’ll just be in more trouble.”

“I don’t want hit,” Frank sobbed. 

“Well…” His mother sighed heavily and started rubbing his shoulder. He was afraid to talk her out of it, because Ronnie would just get to him later. “You should’ve thought about that before you tried to hide your letter, and before you…what did you do?”

“Th-threw food at lunch?” Frank wept. 

“Why would you do that?” She asked.

“B-because a-animals are slaughtered to make that meat, and I don’t want slaughtered either,” Frank cried. 

“Frank, you need to stop this. If you hadn’t tried to hide the note, I wouldn’t have to punish you…” His mom kissed his cheek and he hated how she was being nice before letting her boyfriend be evil. “I’m sorry, Frank.”

“Mom, please,” Frank whimpered.

“I’m sorry, Honey.” He could tell she was feeling guilty. “Ronnie?”

Frank felt his stomach tighten and he squeezed his eyes as tightly as he could. 

“Mom,” he whispered. She didn’t listen. She got up from the bed and told Ronnie he could do what he had to. She closed the door behind her when she left the room and Frank rolled onto his stomach.

“Take your pants off,” Ronnie said in a hushed voice. He didn’t need to speak quietly. Frank knew his mother went to the opposite side of the house when he was being punished. Somehow she could live with letting this happen when she didn’t have to hear, but the thought of someone hurting her child made her squeamish. 

“No,” Frank sobbed. Ronnie growled and grabbed him by the back of his school uniform and started tugging even though his pants were held up with a belt.

“Now!” Ronnie barked. Still sobbing, Frank undid his belt and let Ronnie pull his pants and underwear down to the back of his knees. Ronnie didn’t need him to bend over the bed. He preferred to have Frank lying down on his stomach so he could hit more places…like his back…and his kidneys. “Keep that pillow in your fucking mouth, and don’t make a sound.”

Frank whimpered and tried not to listen as Ronnie took of his belt.

He heard the belt cut through the air and gasped as it cracked down hard on his naked skin. Frank screamed into the pillow, but barely had time to recover before Ronnie struck him again, and again, and again. Frank tried to crawl forward on the bed, just to escape, but Ronnie moved the belt into his left hand and used his right hand to press Frank’s body down onto the bed. Frank cried out, but kept his mouth to the pillow, trying not to bring any more pain. 

The belt fell on him painfully, and it didn’t even take a full minute for him to feel his skin splitting. How did Ronnie expect to explain away the blood when his mom did the laundry? 

“Hold still, you spoiled brat,” Ronnie seethed as Frank’s hips squirmed against the mattress. The heavy strap of leather cracked against his skin firmly, ripping the skin and breaking open rapidly raising welts.

Frank dug his nails into the pillow and screamed. There was no distracting himself from this beating—no amount of _Cats_ lyrics were going to blot out this pain. He felt like he were being sliced open with a knife every time the belt hit him. 

“St-stop!” He pleaded, lifting his head from the pillow to gasp for air.

“Shut up,” Ronnie hissed, moving to his blows down Frank’s legs and hitting him harshly across the lower curve of his thigh until he drew more blood and broke more skin. 

“Stop, Ronnie!” Frank cried out. “Please? Please!?” He whimpered pathetically as his body started shaking violently.

“ _Ronnie?_ ” Frank mother started knocking on the door firmly and Ronnie immediately stopped. 

“Pull up your pants now,” Ronnie whispered. Frank tried to move, but the pain shot through him and left him completely still. Ronnie ended up doing it for him, and wasn’t anything close to gentle.

“ _Ronnie!?_ ” Frank’s mother pulled open the door quickly and took one look at Frank, the sobbing mess, and then turned to her boyfriend. “Why did you hit him so hard?” She asked.

“Honey,” Ronnie said, threading his belt back through his pants. “He’s over-reacting—he just wants your attention. Don’t start babying him or he won’t learn his lesson.”

“He’s _shaking,_ Ronnie!” Frank couldn’t even speak a word let alone a word to defend Ronnie. He hated Ronnie, and he disliked his mother, but he didn’t want his mom to be all alone again because he was stupid. “Oh, Ronnie—what did you do?”

“Honey, I hit him no harder today that I have any other day…”

“Well…Leave for a minute. Just…go sit in the living room. I want to make sure he’s okay…”

“Linda,” Ronnie insisted, “he’s _fine._ He’s playing you. Kids do this in hopes of getting out punishment again instead of just learning not to misbehave.”

Frank just clutched his pillow and cried softly. There was no way to keep his composure when he could feel his underwear being soaked through and sticking to him in spots, but he tried. He didn’t want Ronnie to leave his mom because of him…

He didn’t want her to blame him for being alone. 

“Frank, Sweetheart?” He hadn’t even noticed that Ronnie had left the room until his mother was sitting beside him on the bed. She started picking the hairs off of his face that were stuck to his sweaty and tear-soaked face. “Honey, are you okay? You’re sweating and shaking and…”

“I-I’m sorry,” Frank sobbed, his voice raw. She tried to pull him up from the mattress to hug him, but Frank screamed and pulled away.

“Honey…I’m sorry,” she whispered, letting him go and settling for petting his hair. “I won’t let him hit you again, okay?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Frank sobbed, clutching his pillow and trembling. 

“Shh…I’ll write a note to school so you won’t get punished tomorrow in the office.”

“I-I…” He wanted to badly to tell her that Ronnie lied. Right now, he felt she’d believe him. But how hurt would she be? And what if she didn’t believe him…what if she blamed him?

“What, Honey?” She asked, petting his hair. Frank shook his head laid trembling on the mattress. “Frank, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He won’t hit you again.”

Frank fisted his bed sheets and wailed, feeling weak and feeling pathetic. 

“I’m going to go talk to Ronnie,” she whispered. “Try to…to calm down.” Frank shivered as she rubbed his shoulder and didn’t make a sound other than sobs as she left his bedroom.

“I was just doing what _you_ told me to do,” Frank heard Ronnie say firmly.

“He’s a _mess!_ ” His mother snapped.

“He deserved it, Linda—he needs to learn that he can’t just hide from his mistakes.”

“He would’ve gotten punished by the head master again tomorrow, and then they’d call me. He couldn’t have hidden it. Ronnie…are you _sure_ you saw him tear up that note? He knows better…”

“I know what I saw. It was one of those yellow cards from the office.”

“But…Frank’s not like this. He said he didn’t have one…” Frank noticed that his mom was now crying and he felt horrible. If he’d just kept back his stupid screaming she wouldn’t have had to know…she didn’t need to know.

“He lied, Honey,” Ronnie said. “Don’t cry. He’ll get over it, and he’ll remember it next time he thinks of doing something wrong.”

“No, Ronnie, I told him you won’t hit him anymore. You really, _really_ hu-hurt my baby, why’d you do that?”

“You told me to spank him, I spanked him. What do you want from me, Linda?” 

“Tell me why you hit him so hard, Ronnie! I’ve _never_ seen him cry like that!”

“Linda, he’s being dramatic…he wants you to leave me so you can get back with your ex-husband.”

Frank felt his chest tighten and his sobs got stuck in his throat. Was Ronnie going to end it? Why did that make him feel so good?—and still so horrible? He’d _never_ forgive himself if he ruined his mother’s chance for happiness.

“What?” His mother whispered.

“He said he wanted me to go away so his dad could come home…”

“Oh my God,” his mother gasped. “No…Oh, I thought he was past this.”

Frank clutched his pillow tighter and wept deeply. Just like that, his pain was forgotten about and she was reliving the horror of her terrible first husband…

When he tried to roll over onto his side, the pain ripped through him and he could barely suppress the scream. 

He wished he were dead—he wished he’d never been born.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Frank stared at his bedroom wall and cried. It was already going on three a.m. and he hadn’t moved an inch since Ronnie had left his room. Even if he could move to get his _Cats_ tape, he wouldn’t want to watch it. 

He didn’t need it. It couldn’t help him…

His eyes had dried up for the third time since his beating, but he was sure he would start crying again if he didn’t fall asleep. He stared at his wall which glowed blue from the moonlight, and when he really wished his pain would subside and let him sleep, he found his lips moving to unspoken lyrics. 

Even though it was dark, he whispered the lines to _Daylight_ which quickly had him back in tears. Somewhere between analogies of sunflowers and roses, and Old Deuteronomy choosing the cat that would be reborn, Frank realized just how miserable he was. 

It wasn’t just a saying when he thought he wished he’d never been born, he _meant_ it. He hated everything that made him Frank, and he felt that if he hadn’t been born then his mom would still be with his dad and everyone would be happy.

Frank stuttered out more lyrics while trying not to cry any harder. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“Frank, come on! It’s time to go to school—you’re still sleeping? Oh, Frank! You’re still in your uniform from yesterday, you’re not showered…Frank, didn’t you even move at all last night?” Frank woke up to his mom flailing around in his room, throwing on the light and tearing away the blanket that Ronnie had thrown over him the night before. “Why are your pants halfway off? Get up! Come on, you’re going to be late for school—you know what happens when you’re tardy.” 

Frank opened his eyes and stared at her emptily. He still couldn’t move his legs. The beating had been so intense and because Ronnie had forced his underwear back over his thighs, the blood from his wounds had dried, attaching the fabric to his flesh and he knew it would hurt even worse to take them off.

“Frank…come on. I can’t even _call_ and get you out of trouble if you’re late. Do you want hit again?—Get up!”

Frank stared at her, trying not to get angry. How could she defend him against Ronnie last night, and then willingly hand him over to the headmaster today? Did she even care about him at all?

“Frank…what?” She asked, sitting down beside him on the bed. Frank slowly moved his arm to grab his blanket and pulled it back over his shoulders. “Are you sick?” Frank shrugged and pushed his face back down into his pillow. “Frank…”

“It still hurts,” Frank whispered, his voice cracking even though he tried to stay strong.

“What?” His mother asked, suddenly sounding alarmed. “Frank…how hard did he hit you?” She tried to pull his blanket off of him, but Frank held it tight. He wanted her to help…he wanted it to be over…but he didn’t want her to get hurt. He didn’t want her to be sad or feel like it was her fault when it was _his_ fault. “Frank, let me see!”

“No,” Frank whimpered.

“Frank,” she said firmly. “Let.Me.See.”

“No,” Frank cried out, pushing his face further into the pillow.

“I’m going to call you off school…” She said softly, rubbing his shoulder through the blanket.

“Thank you,” Frank whispered as she stood from the bed and walked out of his room. He really didn’t think he could walk let alone _sit_ in the hard seats at school all day. He almost felt relief, but then terror shot through his veins like ice water. “Mom?” He heard her talking on the phone and waited until she was finished. “Mom?” He called again.

“What?” She asked, coming to stand in his doorway.

“Ronnie’s not…coming over today, right?” He asked anxiously. The looked his mother gave him was a mixture of concern and confusion. 

“I don’t…think so,” she said. “Frank, I told you last night that I won’t let him hit you again. Can I _please_ see if you’re hurt? I just want to see if he left any marks or…how many.” 

“No,” Frank said, burying himself into his blankets.

“I’ll talk to him,” his mother said softly. “You just relax today. Don’t answer the door or the phone—I’ll try to be home a little early…Frank, has he _ever_ left a mark on you before?” 

Frank sniffed and squeezed his eyes close.

“No,” he lied.

“Frank, you can tell me if he did. You won’t get in trouble.”

“No, Mom,” Frank lied again. He felt himself starting to shake, but his mother apparently didn’t notice.

“Alright. I’m gonna go to work. Try to get a shower before too late—and put your uniform in the laundry room. I’m gonna wash it tonight.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered.

“I love you,” she said before leaving his doorway and finishing her morning routine. Frank didn’t answer and tried his best to fall back asleep. 

It really did hurt…It really hurt a lot.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Get your ass up.” 

Frank was grabbed by his arm and pulled out of his despite his scream and cry of protest. He fell onto the floor when his legs gave out, and a pair of dark boots kicked for his head.

“Get in the shower—now.” 

Frank looked up from the floor and started shaking when he recognized Ronnie. How had he known he’d taken the day off school?

“Are you deaf!?” Ronnie screamed, grabbing Frank’s arm once again and pulling him to his feet. “I said get in the shower!” He started pulling Frank forward by his arm, and each step shot sparks of pain through his body. “Take your pants off,” Ronnie said as soon as Frank limped into the bathroom.

“No,” Frank whimpered, trying to get his arm free of Ronnie who held him in a firm grip. 

“Take off your pants or I’m going to take off my belt. How about that?” 

Frank cried out in fear and quickly went to lower his already sagging pants, but Ronnie grabbed the waistband of his underwear for him and ripped them down. The dried blood and forming scabs were torn from Frank’s skin and made him scream. Ronnie shoved him over to make him step out of his pants, and Frank quickly loosened his tie and took off his shirt, trying to avoid any strikes or blows. 

“Wait,” Ronnie boomed just as Frank was about to turn on the water of his shower. Slowly, Frank looked over his shoulder in time to see a camera flash that made his stomach drop. “Get in the fucking shower and then go lay on your bed.”

Frank tried not to think about the possible photo as he quickly adjusted the water and stepped into the shower. As soon as the water touched his broken skin, all of the pain from his beating returned with full force. Frank gasped in pain and tried to get the thin lines of dried blood off of his skin without causing himself too much pain, but it was a fruitless effort. It hurt badly, and Ronnie wanted it to hurt him for days…

“Get out of the fuckin’ shower, now!” Ronnie screamed. Frank gasped and almost dropped to his knees in the shower.

“J-just a s-second!” Frank cried out, trying to rinse all of the shampoo out of his hair quickly.

“Now!” He heard Ronnie crack his belt and turned off the shower immediately. There were still suds in his hair and on his shoulders, but he was not going to risk another blow.

He knew he was probably going to be whipped anyway, and he started crying pitifully as he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and used it to fluff his hair and get some of the soap off of his shoulders, but he didn’t have time to dry off because Ronnie screamed for him again.

“Get your ass on this bed or I’m going to come in there and get you!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Frank cried out. Walking didn’t hurt so badly now that his skin was already searing and stinging from the shower.

When he got to his room, Ronnie was standing beside his bed, his belt off and in his hand. He was ordered to lay face-down on his bed, and he obeyed without any hesitation. Ronnie wasn’t acting like he was going to beat him again, but the threat was still there and very real. Before he could fully lie down, Ronnie tore his towel away and threw it aside on the floor.

“Spread your legs.”

Frank whimpered softly as he did as Ronnie told him. He kept his eyes closed as Ronnie’s hand ran down his wet back and came to rest on the curve of his ass. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as Ronnie started squeezing his thigh and then slapped it. Gasping, Frank tried to keep himself from thinking that escape was an option. 

Really? He wanted to run, but how far could he get? Was he really going to run outside naked in the winter? No…He was going to lay still and let Ronnie do what he wanted.

When his eyes opened slightly, Frank noticed another camera flash and quickly shut his eyes again.

“Wh-what’s going to happen?” Frank asked quietly. 

“Roll over,” Ronnie said, his voice deep and cold. Frank whimpered and started rolling over, crying out when his thighs pressed against his rough bed sheets. “Open your legs, come on…”

“No,” Frank whimpered, keeping his legs squeezed together in a weak attempt to keep Ronnie off of him. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t just listen to him—he couldn’t just lay there and let it happen.

“Frank…Do you want the belt again?”

“N-no,” Frank cried. He turned his face away towards the wall and kept his eyes squeezed shut. From behind his eyelids, he could still see the camera flash again.

“Open your legs. This is your last warning.” 

Frank wept hard and let his knees be pushed open by Ronnie. As soon as they were far enough apart to expose him, he sensed more camera flashes and burst out sobbing.

“Stop it,” Ronnie growled. Frank tried but he couldn’t keep quiet, or still. He began trembling as the chill set in on his wet skin and as Ronnie’s burning hot hands rand down both sides of his chest. “Open your legs more.” 

Frank whimpered and moved his legs only slightly. Ronnie began stroking Frank’s stomach and then dipped lower and running across his most sensitive skin. 

“Don’t say a word,” Ronnie hissed as he started touching Frank more between the legs until Frank’s body started reacting. Immediately, Frank felt sick to his stomach and the vaguely pleasurable feelings went away. Ronnie’s hands were rough and painful. He wanted him to stop—he just wanted it to be over.

( ) ( ) ( ) 

“Frank? I’m home.”

Frank was sitting perfectly still in the kitchen, staring at the silent television. Before Ronnie left, he’d been screamed at, photographed, re-showered, scrubbed, redressed, and placed on the couch. 

“Frank, what are you doing?” Frank’s mother asked. “Frank. Hey!”

Slowly, he turned his eyes to look at her, but didn’t speak a word. His throat was raw. He didn’t feel like talking. 

“Was Ronnie here? He wouldn’t answer his phone.”

Frank turned his face away and shook his head.

“No, Momma.”

“Momma?” His mother asked. “You haven’t called me that in years—what’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” Frank whispered.

“Why are you lying to me?” His mother asked, sitting down beside him on the couch and tossing her purse aside. “You look terrified—Frank, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, lowering his face. Ronnie said he was going to print out the photos if Frank told. He said he’d tell his mom that he found them in Frank’s bag when he came back from his dad’s house. Ronnie said his dad would go to jail…

Frank couldn’t say a word.

“Frank…you’re scaring me. What happened? Was Ronnie here?”

“No, Mom.” His mother sighed deeply and got up from the couch. 

“What do you want for dinner?” She asked as she walked into the kitchen. “I’ve got some broccoli and cheese soup—the kind without chicken stock this time.”

“I don’t care,” Frank whispered. “Whatever you want, Mom.”

“Frank, what happened?” His mother asked, coming back into the room. “Was _Ronnie_ here?”

“No,” Frank lied. 

“I noticed you’re sitting,” she said, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. “You all better now? Now that you skipped school?”

“Yes,” Frank lied. He started chewing on his lip, expecting himself to start crying but the tears didn’t come. “I want to go to Gerard’s house this weekend…”

“Who’s Gerard?” His mother asked as she returned to the kitchen and started setting up for dinner.

“My friend from Dad’s house,” he whispered.

“Frank, I only get you every other weekend, too. I’d like to spend time with you, too, when I’m not at work.”

“Sorry,” Frank mumbled. 

“I mean…you can go over and hang out, but don’t…don’t sleep over.” Frank wondered if going to Gerard and Mikey’s house was really a safe idea. Ronnie could see it for the escape attempt that it was and he might punish him. “Frank, why do you look so scared?” His mother returned to the doorway and Frank shrugged. “Frank…I know something happened. Who was here?”

“No one,” Frank whispered. 

“Did Ronnie come here?” His mother asked grimly.

“No,” Frank repeated. 

“Are you lying to me?”

“No…”

“Frank…”

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Frank mumbled.

“Fine. I’ll get back to making dinner…”

( ) ( ) ( )

On Wednesday, Frank was afraid to go out to his father’s car when he pulled up. He looked over his shoulder at Ronnie who made a threatening gesture. Frank took to it mean “get out” and no less than ran out his front door.

“Hey, Frank,” his father said when he hurried into the car.

“Drive,” Frank said quickly, afraid Ronnie might come outside and pull some kind of stunt to make his father angry with him.

“What’s your problem?” His father asked, putting the car in drive and starting down the road.

“Nothing,” Frank mumbled. “Can I go see Gerard today?”

“Frank, I only get you once this week…”

“Just for a minute,” Frank asked. “I just want to ask him about something.”

“Why don’t you hang out with Mikey? He’s more your age…”

“Mikey’s cool,” Frank mumbled. He would die before he admitted that Gerard made him feel different, and strange…

“Gerard’s too old for you to be hanging out with, Frank. He’s not…”

“Not what?” Frank asked.

“It’s nothing, Frank,” his father snapped.

“Not what?” Frank pushed.

“Not the kind of kid I want you getting involved with, okay!?”

Frank shrank down in his seat and didn’t say another word about it. His father wasn’t like Ronnie, but everyone seemed like a threat. Everyone looked like a pawn in Ronnie’s game. One word from Ronnie and he was sure his dad could start beating him, too. 

He barely spoke a word at dinner, and only mumbled out a few sentences when his father really pushed. They watched TV in complete silence, and when Frank went to bed, he didn’t even get a goodnight out of his father.

The next day, he went to school, walked home, and found a collage of photos laid out on his bed.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Hi, Frank. My name is Dr. Roher. Do you know why you’re meeting with me today?”

Frank sat in the straight-backed chair across from the school counselor’s desk and shook his head. He knew he had a split lip, but he didn’t want to talk about why. He knew he was quieter and that his grades had dropped and that he’d been cutting classes and running away and hiding when called to the headmaster’s office.

“Well, your teachers and the headmaster have noticed that you haven’t been acting like yourself lately, and we thought you might have something you wanted to talk with us about.”

Dr. Roher seemed nice, but there was no way Frank was saying a word to her about his life. She couldn’t help him…no one could.

“I’m…okay,” Frank mumbled. 

“Sister Mary wrote me a note saying that you used to be one of her more engaged students,” Dr. Roher said in a too-friendly voice. Frank thought Sister Mary must’ve lost her mind. He hardly answered questions, even before he started sleeping in class.

“No I wasn’t,” Frank mumbled.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about, Frank? Anything at all?”

“No,” Frank said firmly. “I’m going to be late…My mom’s going to get worried.” Frank tried to stand up to leave but Dr. Roher motioned for him to sit back down. 

“I called your mother at home—”

“Mom’s not home,” Frank said quickly. “Who answered? Mom isn’t home—sh-she’s not home right now. She’s at work…”

“Frank, calm down,” Dr. Roher said softly. “Frank—what matters is that I called your mother and told her she could pick you up around three forty-five.”

“B-But…she gets off work at four,” Frank whimpered.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright,” Dr. Roher said calmly.

“N-no,” Frank stammered, feeling sick to his stomach. There was the possibility that the counselor meant she called his mother at work, but what if she’d called home and Ronnie had somehow impersonated her and now Ronnie knew he’d attracted attention from his teachers? Ronnie said if anyone found out he’d get his dad put in jail. And even if Ronnie didn’t go to that extreme this time, Frank knew he’d get hurt even more and have more pictures taken. He didn’t want any more pictures taken! He kept finding them in different places of his room and who was to stop Ronnie from leaving one out in the open and saying _he_ found it.

“Frank, what is the matter?”

Frank caught his breath and made himself sit still in the chair. She couldn’t see him sweat—she couldn’t know.

“Are you sure you called home?” Frank asked nervously. 

“I called the _primary_ number listed in your file, Frank. Why are you afraid I called your mother at home?”

“Because i-if she’s home then she left work…and that means she’s sick,” Frank lied, impressing himself with his stories. Ronnie had made him a master of thinking quick. 

“Let’s talk about your home life, Frank. I know your parents are divorced and that that’s hard for a boy your age.”

“I see my dad,” Frank said. He was used to the harassment at church on Sundays. Parents coming up to him and telling him that they were sorry he had to suffer because of his parents’ “sin.” Parents telling their kids not to talk to him, and women shunning his mother because they were afraid she’d steal their husbands.

“Yes, but are either of your parents beginning new relationships?”

“Th-that’s…what does this have to do with me?” Frank asked nervously. He looked at the clock and saw that he had more than an hour before he could leave…unless he ran away.

Ran home to Ronnie…

“Frank, you seem frightened.” Dr. Roher stared Frank in the eyes and he began to sweat. “IS something happening at home?”

“No,” he said, not even stuttering or shaking. 

“Then do you want to talk about why you feel your grades have been dropping?”

“I’m not…smart enough?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t feel like you’re lacking in intelligence, Frank. I feel that there’s something else going on that you don’t want to, or feel you can’t, talk to me about.”

“No,” Frank said. “Nothing’s wrong…”

“Frank…Sister Mary and Sister Serenity have both reported seeing bruises on your neck and your wrists. Today you have a bloody lip.”

“I wrestle with my friend Mikey,” Frank lied, managing to maintain eye contact. 

“Is Mikey another student?”

“He’s my dad’s neighbor…well, their son.”

“And his parents let him hit you in the mouth?”

“It was an accident,” Frank said quickly, hoping the school wouldn’t call his dad and ask him to corroborate his story… “He hit me with his elbow when I had him on the floor.”

“Frank, violence is condemned in the Bible,” Dr. Roher said softly. Her tone of voice made him feel ashamed even though he hadn’t done anything except try to get Ronnie off of him. 

“Do I have to go talk to Father Dunne?” Frank asked softly.

“No,” Dr. Roher said, smiling and shaking her head. “But let’s talk about home. You live with your Mom, right?”

“Yes,” Frank whimpered. Dr. Roher kept trying to get him to say his mother abused him, but he denied all of her question and never spoke a word about Ronnie. When he was asked about his dad, he admitted that his dad was the less intimidating parent, but refused to say his father had ever hurt him.

When he finally thought he was about to die from the web of lies and stories he’d strung up, his mother appeared at the office door and introduced herself to Dr. Roher. Frank caught one glimpse of her eyes and knew that it wasn’t Ronnie he needed to worry about this time…it was Mom.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I cannot believe you, Frank!” His mother screamed as soon as he stepped foot into their house. “Falling asleep in class? Hiding in the bathroom when you’re told to see the headmaster? _Cutting classes!?_ What has gotten into you!?”

“I don’t know,” Frank whimpered. 

“Don’t bullshit me,” his mother snapped. He’d never seen her so angry. She didn’t need Ronnie—she looked like she was ready to kill him. “You’re going to get yourself thrown out of school! Then what? I’m going to have to send you to public school with all the heathens!”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said quietly. 

“You’re grounded. Get in your room.”

Frank didn’t wait to be told twice, and didn’t bother to ask what he was grounded from since all he did was lie in bed and stare at walls all day. He was about to lay down in his bed when he heard his mother tack on another phrase in her anger.

“You just wait until Ronnie gets here!” She shouted. “You’re in trouble!”

Frank felt tears well in his eyes instantly, and he didn’t even get a chance to blink before they started falling. She’d promised that she’d never let Ronnie hit him again—she promised! Ronnie was going to kill him.

He cried until he heard the front door of their house open and recognized Ronnie’s voice. He and his mother talked indistinctly before she raised her voice.

“Can you please talk to him?” he heard his mother say. “He’s getting in all sorts of trouble at school, and then today they called me at work and said he was talking to the counselor because they feel someone’s abusing him! Can you believe that? I break my back at work for _him_ and they say I’m hurting him!”

“Shh, Honey. I’ll take care of it. I’ll figure out what’s going on…something might be happening at his dad’s house, you know?”

“Oh, he’d never do anything to Frank!” His mother exclaimed. “And Frank’s always so excited when he goes to see his father…”

“I’ll talk to him, Honey. I’ll see if I can get through.” He sounded so friendly and so nice, but he wasn’t. He was evil. 

He held his breath as he heard Ronnie coming towards his door and didn’t know if Ronnie would want him bent over, laying down, or their new favorite thing…

“Get on your knees,” Ronnie said just after closing the door. Frank looked over his shoulder at his bedroom window as if he thought he could really break through it and run away, and then kneeled on the floor. “Your mother is very disappointed in you,” Ronnie said as he came over to him and opened the front of his pants. “You know how hard she works to provide for you and _pay_ for that private school.” Frank opened his mouth and closed his eyes as Ronnie forced him to take in his length. “And how do you repay her, Frank? Cutting classes? Sleeping through class?” Frank gagged as Ronnie pulled his head forward and tried to sob, but was choked instead. “How _disrespectful_ can you be?”

Frank tried to scream, but it was muffled as Ronnie violated him. 

“You’re _so selfish,_ Frank,” Ronnie hissed. Frank wept around the organ in his mouth because he knew Ronnie was right. He _was_ selfish. He _was_ stupid—he _was_ disrespectful.

Ronnie kept a hand fisted in his hair and continuously pushed and pulled on Frank’s head, making him gagging and never giving his jaw a rest. When Ronnie felt teeth, he kicked Frank’s shin and hissed out threats. When Frank moved his tongue, the grip on his hair loosened just a little. 

After almost fifteen minutes, Ronnie pulled back Frank’s head and told him to hold out his tongue. Frank sobbed because he knew what was going to happen, but knew better than to try to fight. He closed his eyes and held out his tongue. The taste in his mouth got worse, hot fluid was splashed across his tongue, his nose, his cheeks, and his forehead, and he saw more than one camera flash.

“Open your eyes and look up at me.” Frank trembled, but did as he was told, staring up the man without even wiping the semen off his face. Ronnie snapped two more photos and then put away his camera. “Wipe off your face and go apologize to your mother.”

Ronnie zipped and buttoned his pants and turned away from Frank who hadn’t moved from the floor.

“And I want a _real_ apology, you selfish little shit.” Ronnie slammed the door when he left and Frank hurried over to his bed sheets to wipe the cold, slimy fluid off his face. Some of it was stuck in his hair and he had to wet his fingers in order to get it out before it could dry and leave a mark his mother would see. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank knocked on Donna’s door so softly that it was almost inaudible. He was surprised when she opened—almost as surprised as she was to see him.

“Hi, Frank,” Donna said, looking over her shoulder. “You’re…here to hang out with Mikey?”

“I…I would’ve called but I don’t have your number…” Frank had a sinking feeling that Mikey wasn’t home, and he really didn’t want to go back over to his dad’s house because Ronnie had gotten his dad angry at him again.

“Oh, come in, Honey. I’ll give it you.” Frank followed her into her house and stood awkwardly in the kitchen. She didn’t call for Mikey, so he knew he was more than likely doomed to be sent back home. 

“Mikey’s not home, is he?” Frank asked quietly.

“No…he’s working on a school project,” she said as she handed him a tiny post-it note with their phone number on it. 

“Oh…” He almost dared to ask if Gerard were home even though his dad mysteriously forbid him from hanging out with him, but then he heard someone running up the basement stairs.

“Hey, Ma—check it out! I’m a cat!” Frank heard Gerard start to laugh as he ran up the steps and started blushing. Gerard burst into the kitchen from the basement stairwell, but turned back around and ran down the first few steps again when he saw Frank. “Why didn’t you tell me _he was here!?_ ” Gerard shouted. 

Whatever blush Frank had had when he’d heard Gerard giggling was magnified by ten when he saw Gerard with his face painted like a cat—and not just the whiskers and the nose, like a _Cats_ cat. He looked like Munkustrap—the narrator. He had all the different shades of white, and the stripes and spots all in the perfect place (from what Frank had seen) and Frank lost control of himself when the excitement took over. 

“You’ve seen _Cats!_ ” Frank called, going over to the basement stairwell and looking down at Gerard’s silhouette. He’d even roughed up his hair to make him look like a _Cats_ cat! 

“Yeah, who hasn’t?” Gerard growled.

“Frank, you might want to go back home to your father…”

“B-but…no one’s ever seen _Cats!_ ” Frank protested. 

“ _Everyone_ has seen _Cats!_ ” Gerard argued, going further down to his room. Against his better judgment, Frank followed him. “Go away,” Gerard grumbled when Frank came into his room.

“But I _love Cats…_ ” Frank said, trying to peer around Gerard’s turned back or catch his reflection in some surface.

“It’s not even good,” Gerard growled, sitting down at his desk and grabbing for a packet of makeup removing wipes.

“D-don’t take it off!” Frank cried. “I…I think it’s cool.”

“Because you’re a freak,” Gerard growled. “Go home—didn’t your dad tell you _not_ to talk to me?”

“Why do you know about that?” Frank asked, feeling a little heart broken when Gerard ran the wipe over his eyes and down his chin. He threw the cloth aside and grabbed another one from the pack to clean the other side of his face. There were still smears of paint and makeup on his face, making him look like some kind of a Halloween corpse. 

“Because, everyone tells their kids to stay away from me,” Gerard muttered. “I’m a freak, don’t you know that?” Gerard grabbed another wipe and scrubbed more harshly at his eyes.

“H-hey, Gerard?” Frank asked, sitting down on Gerard’s bed. 

“What?” Gerard growled. 

“Can I…talk to you about something?”

“No,” Gerard answered simply. “Go home, before I get accused of something else.” Frank looked down at the floor and bit his lip. He felt like he could relate to that feeling of blame. All he had to do was breathe the wrong way and Ronnie would get him in trouble for all sorts of things.

“But…”

“ _What?_ ” Gerard snapped. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“You’re…cool,” Frank mumbled. He wouldn’t dare mention that Gerard was less of a Munkustrap and more of a Rum Tum Tugger.

“I’m fresh out of juvie for possession charges—go home.” Frank felt a little twinge of anxiety hit him when Gerard mentioned time behind bars, but—if he had to be honest—Gerard didn’t seem the least bit threatening to him.

“But…you’ve seen _Cats._ ”

“And I’ve been in fuckin’ juvie! Go home! Get out of here!”

“Frank?” Donna called from upstairs. “Come on—you gotta go.”

“Just a second,” Frank called up to her before looking at Gerard almost desperately. “Please, Gerard—I just want to talk to you…”

“I saw _Cats_ in school, okay? I don’t know what you want from me—please, go home.”

“I don’t want to talk about _Cats,_ ” Frank mumbled.

“What?” Gerard asked, finally turning to look at him. When he asked him, Frank felt like all of his words had left him. There were still black smudges around Gerard’s eyes that made him look harsh and cold…but still so cool.

“You’re…like, really tough,” Frank mumbled.

“Not really,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes and wiping at his face with the cloths. 

“Wh...what would you do if someone was, like…beating you up all the time?” Frank lowered his eyes and listened to Gerard’s quiet sigh. 

“Bullying?” Gerard asked. “I’d punch them back—go home.”

“But what if you can’t them back?” Frank asked.

“Why couldn’t you hit back? You’ve got hands. You’ve got feet. Throw a punch. Don’t be a pushover—now go home.”

“Frank—you need to go home now,” Donna called. Frank heard her start coming down the stairs and he felt backed into a corner. “Come on—your dad will get mad at you.”

“He’s already mad at me,” Frank mumbled. 

“It’s…Mom, it’s fine. He’s trying to talk about something, go away,” Gerard said, changing quickly from trying to push Frank out to keep him around. He really was just like Rum Tum Tugger…

“Gerard…His father told me—”

“I don’t care—who’s going to tell? Go back upstairs.” Gerard gestured for her to go away and Frank practically cowered on Gerard’s behalf. If he talked to his mom like that, she’d sick Ronnie on him…whether she knew it or not.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Honey. And stop using those wipes like that—they’re expensive.” Donna went back upstairs without another word and Frank was left in shock.

“So…it’s your dad isn’t it?” Gerard said, looking at the staircase.

“N-no,” Frank said quickly. “Not…not my dad.”

“But a family member,” Gerard said. Frank lowered his head and tried to decide why he felt so compelled to spill his guts to Gerard—a kid he didn’t even know. A kid he didn’t even know if he could trust.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered.

“Tell the cops,” Gerard said. “Get whoever it is arrested. Tell the school—God, do schools _love_ to investigate parents for abuse.”

“I can’t,” Frank mumbled.

“Why?” Gerard asked. 

“He…he said if I told he would blame my dad…”

“How could he blame your dad?” Gerard asked. Frank felt his stomach tighten and he knew better than to mention the photos or the rape. “Why are you shaking—what the hell?” Gerard got up from his desk and backed farther away from Frank. “Please, don’t put this on me. I-I can’t do anything! I just got out of juvie—I’m practically on parole!”

“I’m sorry,” Frank mumbled. It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have bothered Gerard with his nightmare. Gerard obviously had enough problems of his own.

“Well, don’t fuckin’ leave it there,” Gerard groaned. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh dear God, spit it out!” Gerard moaned. “What? I hate this—tell me or I’m calling my mom back…”

“I just…”

“Who is it?” Gerard asked. “Who beat you up?”

“Mom’s boyfriend,” Frank whispered. “Please don’t tell…”

Gerard stepped away from the wall he’d backed himself against and sat back down at his desk. 

“So…he hits you and like…yells at you and stuff?” It was obvious that Gerard had no idea what to say, and somehow that was more soothing that Dr. Roher who knew every phrase in the book. Gerard seemed genuine…

“Yeah,” Frank whispered.

“Wait,” Gerard said before bolting up from his desk. He stood with so much force that he knocked his chair over. “Wait—no, no, no, no, no!—The other week…the other week you were asking about—no! N-no! Mom!”

“Gerard, please!” Frank called. He didn’t want adults involved—he wasn’t even sure that he wanted anyone to know!

“Mom! Mom, come here!” Gerard looked terrified. Frank got up from the bed and tried to decide if he wanted to run away or if he had a lie he could come up with. He had no time…Donna was running down the stairs as if the house were burning.

“What?” She called. “What happened? What’s wrong?” She looked around the room and everyone’s faces as if expecting to see pools of blood or severed limbs. “Christ, don’t scare me like that! _What!?_ ”

“T-talk to him,” Gerard said, pointing at Frank and backing back up against the wall. “I-I can’t—you have to. I can’t.” Frank felt like a bug…like a spider that everyone was too afraid to crush.

“What?” Donna asked, panting heavily and wiping her curly blond bangs out of her face. She turned to Frank and stared at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, staring at her in shock. Not really sure to make of what just happened. Why couldn’t he and Gerard just talk? Why did adults have to get involved? Adults would know he was being selfish and that he brought it all on himself…

“Don’t do that shit, kid,” Donna said. “I ran down here thinking someone got stabbed with a calligraphy pen or something. What is wrong?”

“Ask about his mom’s boyfriend, Mom,” Gerard said quickly. “Ask him—just ask.” 

Frank looked at Gerard helplessly and wanted to know why Gerard couldn’t just talk to him. 

“What?” Donna asked. “Do you want me to go get your dad?”

“No,” Frank mumbled, looking at Gerard in wide-eyed terror. Everything he worked to conceal was preparing to blow up in his face. Even if he ran away, Donna would go and talk to his father, and his dad would call Mom and she’d tell Ronnie and Ronnie would bring out the photos and Dad would go to jail. Why couldn’t Gerard just talk to him on his own?

“Frank, what’s wrong?” Donna asked. “What?”

“H-he…” Gerard pressed back against the wall harder, like he was expecting to escape. “He asked me about, like…assault and stuff a couple weeks ago. Mom, just ask him—I can’t. I can’t!”

“Okay, okay,” Donna said, going to Gerard and rubbing his shoulders. “Just go upstairs—get yourself some coffee. Some _decaf._ Go watch TV with your dad…or go lay down in Mikey’s room, okay?”

Gerard nodded and started towards the stairs. The look he gave Frank was one of pain and sympathy. It made Frank want to follow him.

“I-Is he okay?” Frank asked once Gerard was gone.

“He’ll be fine,” Donna said. “What happened?”

“I…wanted to talk to him about…” Frank swallowed hard and lowered his head. He couldn’t talk about it. He’d somehow managed to hurt Gerard without even speaking, and he wasn’t going to put himself in jeopardy with Ronnie. “I’m gonna go home,” Frank whispered. 

“No, wait a minute,” Donna said. “My son’s a wreck, and you’re going to tell what happened to get him that worked up.” Frank didn’t know if he was about to be saved or if he was getting in trouble. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered. “I didn’t mean to.” Slowly, he stood up from Gerard’s bed and vowed never to come over to this house again. 

“What happened?” Donna asked again. “What did you want to talk about? What’s this about your mom’s boyfriend?”

“Nothing,” Frank mumbled. “I’m sorry I…hurt his feelings. I won’t bother him anymore.” Before Donna could grab him, Frank bolted up the stairs and out the front door. Before she even reached the top of the stairs, Frank had run back into his dad’s house and up to his room.

“Frank?” His father called after him. 

“Leave me alone!” Frank screamed, slamming his bedroom door and hurrying to burry himself in his sheets. 

“Frank!” His father shouted. He started coming up the steps, but stopped when someone started knocking on the door. 

Frank started sobbing and pulled the blankets over his head, sealing off all access to fresh air. He didn’t care if he suffocated—he _wanted_ to die.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

“Frank?” Frank trembled under the blanket. “Frank, come on.” Frank felt someone shake him by his shoulder. “Frank…”

Suddenly, Frank realized that that voice was wrong. That was his mom’s voice and he was at dad’s house. His mom pulled his blanket off from over his head and stared at him when he looked up at her. 

“Hey…” She said. Her face was creased with worry and her cheeks were flushed a bright red. “Your dad called and said you wouldn’t talk to him…that you went to the neighbors and talked to their son?”

Frank began breathing heavily and tried to come up with a way to get out of trouble. Ronnie was going to bring out the photos. People were going to see what he let Ronnie do…his mom would hate him and his dad wouldn’t want him. Where was he going to go? What were they going to do with him?

“Frank, come on. Stop it—talk to me.”

“I…just wanted to talk to Gerard,” Frank whimpered. 

“Donna said that you…told her son you wanted to talk to him about Ronnie…”

“N-no I didn’t,” Frank stammered.

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie anymore, Frank. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, Momma,” Frank whimpered. “Nothing, I promise…” Nothing worse could possibly happen to him now. He could never see Gerard again, Gerard and his mom probably thought he was a crazy idiot, and now his mom was going to find out that he was a freak. And he bet his dad wouldn’t want anything to do with him now after all of this trouble…

“Frank, were you going to talk about when he hit you?” She asked.

“No,” Frank whispered. “I didn’t say anything, Mom. He started saying stuff and then called his mom and I didn’t say anything!”

His mother sighed heavily and rubbed at her forehead. 

“Frank, I know you’re lying to me. _Stop_ lying to me!” Frank collapsed into tears and tried to bury his face in his pillow. “Stop,” his mother said firmly. “Stop it!” She tried shaking him, but he continued trying to smother himself. “Frank! My God—what is wrong!?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Frank cried. “Go home—go away!”

“Frank, if Ronnie did something to you, you need to tell _me_ right now! Tell _me!_ Not your father’s neighbor!”

“Mom,” Frank cried, holding his pillow tight.

“Frank, what did Ronnie do to upset you?” She asked softly. Frank shook his head and clung to the pillow. “Frank! Answer me, now!”

“Nothing, Mom!” Frank cried. “I mean it!” His mother sighed heavily and threw the blanket back over his head. He wished she’d give up and leave, but he could tell she cared too much about him to do that. He heard her breathing heavily and pacing across his room.

“Frank, you _need_ to tell me what Ronnie did to you…”

“He…” Frank closed his eyes tightly. “He told me I was selfish, and that I just wanted you to myself. But he’s wrong,” Frank stammered. “It hurt my feelings…I just want you to be happy again.” He didn’t know if he was crying harder because he was sorry he had to lie, or because he knew Ronnie would destroy him when he heard about this…

“Okay…okay, Frank,” his mother said, sighing in obvious relief. Frank felt like he was dying. “Honey… _tell me_ when something happens with you and Ronnie, okay? He’s…he really wants to be like another father to you, and I’m sure it would hurt him too if he knew you were so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank cried.

“Now…you’re going to have to go talk to Gerard. He’s…Donna said he’s pretty torn up.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Frank wept. “I just wanted to talk to him, Mom—Gerard’s really cool.”

“Your dad told me he was in juvie for drugs—you _know_ that’s not a good person to be around.” Frank exhaled sharply and felt his tears turn angry. What the hell did she know about Gerard? _Ronnie_ was the bad one. Gerard was really cool and really nice…

“The church is about forgiveness, Mom,” Frank sniffed. “He’s nice to me.”

“You’ve seen him, what, _twice?_ ”

“Mom, I really like him,” Frank cried. He thought about Gerard and how Gerard had seen _Cats_ and he felt funny and good and _happy._

“ _Like_ him?” His mother asked. “Oh, God…Frank, you do pick the worst friends.”

“Talk to him yourself!” Frank argued. “Go talk to him—he’s really nice.”

“Frank, he’s a drug addict.”

“Not anymore,” Frank whimpered. He didn’t know why it hurt so badly to hear someone talk about Gerard. He really had only talked to him three times, but he knew he liked him. He liked him a lot.

“You don’t _know_ him!”

“You don’t know Ronnie!” Frank screamed. He sank his teeth into his lip and stared at his mom as her face went slack.

“What don’t I know about Ronnie?” She asked. Frank shook his head and then flinched when his mother moved to strike him. “Stop this! Has he done something or not!? Make up your mind! Do you want me to end it with him? Is that what you want?—because I will. Okay? I’ll leave him if that’s what you want…”

“I…I don’t want you to be alone,” Frank mumbled.

“Frank, face it. We _both_ know you want me to get back with your dad, but it’s not going to happen, we _don’t_ get along. And if you’re going to act this way with every guy I date, then I’m going to _be_ alone.”

Frank had nothing to say to her and lay still on his mattress.

“I’m going home. Do you want to come with me?”

“No,” Frank whispered.

“Trust me, Frank,” she said, her voice cold. “Your father is no happier with you than I am right now.”

When his mother walked out of his room, Frank decided to give in. It didn’t matter anymore. Ronnie could beat him, break him, and rape him if that was what he wanted…it wouldn’t change a thing. Frank would deal with it on his own…and he swore that he would never speak a word again.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank lay on his mattress after Ronnie climbed off of him. His mom would be home from work in about fifteen minutes, and that was all the time he had to get the smell off of him and change into his everyday clothes. It was now a routine since Frank had quit fighting him. He saw no reason to fight. No one cared. 

No one loved him. 

Ronnie closed his bedroom door and went to go finish making dinner. Frank didn’t even wince as he sat up and got himself dressed. He was used to it now, and it hurt less when he laid still and let Ronnie have his way.

“Frank?” His mother called for him as soon as she came home, and he usually came out of his bedroom with the same blank look on his face. He was never happy to see her. He didn’t like her anymore… “Help Ronnie with the dinner. I have to call the bank.”

Frank went to the kitchen and listened to what orders Ronnie gave him in the falsely polite voice he used when his mother was around.

“Here’s your meat-free shit,” Ronnie said, throwing Frank’s plate down onto the table while still preparing his own and Linda’s. “Do I get a _thanks?_ ”

“Do I get to tell Mom about the pictures?” Frank asked, looking Ronnie dead in the eye. The man raised a hand to slap him and Frank just turned his face aside. Who gave a fuck if he got slapped? 

“You’re lucky I don’t shove this knife up your ass, kid,” Ronnie seethed. 

“Just do it,” Frank snapped as he sat down to his plate. He could hear his mother in the bedroom talking on the phone and he felt rage gnaw away at him. Where was she when he needed her? Off somewhere else.

“I will…next weekend.”

Frank rolled his eyes and started eating even though no one else was at the table. 

It was already his least favorite part of his month—the weekend he had to spend with his dad.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sat in his bedroom at his father’s house listening to a ripped CD on his portable CD player. Whenever his dad would start talking to him, he’d just turn the volume up louder. His dad, at one point, said something about beating him. Frank mumbled something like “do it” or “bring it,” but could barely hear himself over his music.

The only thing he did hear that Friday night was “fine, I’ll go out by myself.” He moved one side of his headphones off of his ear and listened. He heard the front door close and the car pull out of the drive.

After that, he went downstairs and looked out the side window of the house. Both of the cars were in Gerard’s driveway, so Frank decided to go over.

It had been almost three months since the mess, and the holidays had passed with a remarkable calm. Frank bet he could get Donna to let him in.

Quietly, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Frank left the house and skulked across the lawn to the Way family’s porch. He rang the doorbell instead of knocking, and forced on a look of long-forgotten innocence when Donna answered.

“Oh, hi, Frank…” Donna said when she spotted him. She looked positively repulsed. “Um…”

“Gerard’s home, right?” He asked.

“I don’t think he’s…up for visitors.” Frank stared at her until she caved. “Okay, fine.” She sighed heavily and looked over her shoulder at the stairwell to the basement. “Gerard?”

“I’m naked!” Gerard called back. “I said I’d be up in a minute—it’s been half a second!”

“Frank’s here,” she said with very little enthusiasm. 

“Oh…Um—still naked!”

“I made him take a shower,” Donna mumbled. 

“Oh,” Frank said, squirming when he thought about Gerard, alone, in a shower…naked. It took a few months, but Frank was finally figuring out those weird feelings. All his peers around him were falling head over heels for each other, and all Frank thought about when it came to a “girlfriend” was Gerard…because Gerard was like Rum Tum Tugger and Tugger was kind of hot.

“Still naked,” Gerard chanted. 

“Put on some clothes,” Donna sighed. “So, Frank…how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Frank said, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“How’s your mom?” Frank glared at her and started down the basement steps. 

“Naked!” Gerard called out, even though he was only topless when Frank got to the bottom of the stairs.

“You’ve got pants on…” Frank mumbled. As soon as he saw Gerard get himself tangled in the shirt he was trying to put on, Frank felt small again. He remembered how much of a fool he had looked the last time they had spoken and felt his cheeks burn with shame.

“What’s…what’s up?” Gerard asked once his shirt was on. His face was flushed red as if putting on clothes had been a tough workout, and he was panting by the time he sat down at his desk. His lips were wet…shiny.

“My dad went out without me…” Frank said, staring at Gerard’s lips as he panted.

“That sucks,” Gerard said, looking at him curiously. Frank made slow eye contact and then looked away again. If Gerard caught him staring, he’d call him a creep. “Isn’t he going to be worried when he gets home you’re…you know, gone?”

“I guess,” Frank mumbled. “Hey…um…” Frank felt himself becoming tongue tied and he bit into his lip. How could he stand up to Ronnie, but not speak a single word to Gerard?

“Wait,” Gerard said. “Um…about, you know, the ‘other day,’ are you alright?” Frank’s breath caught in his throat and he turned to look back up the stairs. Of all the times he’d been interrogated by his mother and his counselor and his father, not one time had he been asked if he were alright.

“Yeah,” Frank lied. “I mean…Are you?”

Gerard laughed, and shook his head.

“No one is okay,” Gerard said. “But I’m being serious—are you alright? I’m sorry I freaked…I can’t handle stress.”

“It’s okay,” Frank mumbled. All this time he felt Gerard thought he was a freak for what he’d been trying to say, when really it appeared that Gerard was afraid that Frank thought he was the weird one…

“Do you…want to talk about it? I promise I won’t have a panic attack again. I’m…I’m over it.” Gerard was being so kind… Frank almost wished he’d go back to being harsh and a little bit cruel. That was the side of Gerard he liked…that was the kind of man he was used to.

“Over what?” Frank asked, meeting Gerard’s gaze. Gerard looked away and shrugged.

“Life.”

“Me too,” Frank mumbled.

“That’s not good,” Gerard whispered, turning to his desk and picking up a pencil.

“It’s better,” Frank said in a low voice. He wanted Gerard to be meaner, but he liked being able to talk like this…He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. 

“You’re not really numb, you know,” Gerard said, sketching on the corner of a piece of paper.

“I never said I was,” Frank mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When did it happen?” Gerard asked, his eyes looking unfocused.

“When did it stop?” Frank asked, forcing himself to laugh because he knew if he didn’t, he’d cry.

“You have to tell her…”

“I’m not telling her anything,” Frank growled. “She turned her back on me!”

“She doesn’t _know,_ ” Gerard mumbled.

“I don’t care anymore,” Frank mumbled.

“Then why are you here?” Gerard asked. 

“Because I wanted to see you,” Frank said, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Why? I’m just a junkie with bad skin.”

“You’ve seen _Cats._ ”

“Why did you come to me?” Gerard asked. “The first time…”

Frank looked down at the floor and shrugged. He had to decide now—decide again—if he wanted helped, or if he wanted to let everything go on as it was.

“Because you knew and I didn’t,” Frank whispered. He’d known it, even months ago, that Gerard understood everything. He may not have been certain that he wanted anyone to tell, but he’d known that Gerard could help.

“Your mom and dad really care about you…you should tell them.”

“No,” Frank mumbled. 

“Why?”

“Because then my mom would be alone and it’d be my fault. She’s _happy_ with Ronnie.”

“Do you really think she’d blame you if she found out?” Gerard asked, not lifting his pencil from the paper. Frank couldn’t answer him. Without even trying, Gerard was making him feel stupid.

Why didn’t he tell? Why did he think his sweet, kind, loving, nurturing mother would take Ronnie’s side? Why was he afraid to speak up? Why was he such a coward?

“I don’t want her to be alone because of me—or feel like she can’t date anyone because she’s _stuck_ with me.”

“He doesn’t love her,” Gerard mumbled. “Wouldn’t you rather have your mom be with a person that actually wants to date _her_ and not use her?”

“It’s not my fault!” Frank cried out. “H-He took _pictures!_ He said he was going to say he found them in my room and that Dad took them!”

Gerard finally looked up from his sketch and looked at Frank with pity. It made Frank feel sick. He didn’t want pity—he didn’t want help. He wanted someone to know and help him deal with it without changing it. It was too late to fix…he’d let it go on for so long that he didn’t think anyone would believe him if he spoke up now. 

Ronnie would say he’d asked for it. Ronnie would turn the world against him.

“Frank, you need to tell someone. No one’s going to blame you.”

“And wh-what do I say when they ask why I waited? Wh-what do I say then?” Frank asked, starting to cry. He hadn’t cried from anything more than physical pain since the big mess…

“That he threatened you,” Gerard said simply.

“Th-then h-how do I explain yesterday? O-Or the day before that when I just let him do what he wanted? I didn’t say no, Gerard! I didn’t say _anything!_ ” Frank started sobbing and even though he tried to keep them back, they forced their way out of his chest and he collapsed onto his only friend’s bed.

“Frank…he’s older than you. You could say yes and it’d still be wrong…”

Frank rolled onto his side and nuzzled Gerard’s pillow, partly because he wanted comfort, and partly because he wanted to know how Gerard smelled. The sheets smelled like fabric softener—they were clean.

His sheets at home were never clean.

“I don’t want Mom to be alone because of me,” Frank whispered.

“Ronnie doesn’t care about her,” Gerard said. “I can’t even press that enough.” He went back to sketching and Frank stared at him. “He’s using her to get to you. He never cared about her, Frank. He’s after you…”

“But he makes my mom happy,” Frank whimpered. “If it’s what I have to do to make her happy…”

“He’s manipulating her, and he’s manipulating you…”

Frank sobbed into the pillow and wished it smelled like something other than flowers. He wanted to smell Gerard—he wanted someone to touch him and not hurt him. He just wanted a _hug._

“What if I tell her and she doesn’t believe me?” Frank sobbed. Gerard sighed gently and scratched away at his piece of paper.

“Didn’t he give you the photos?” Gerard asked. 

“I threw them away!” Frank cried. “Why would I keep those?—He’s going to convince her that I’m lying!”

“Let her catch him…”

“Is that what you did?” Frank asked, gazing over at Gerard from the pillow.

“Nothing happened to me,” Gerard mumbled. 

“But…” Frank suddenly felt betrayed. Gerard had spoken to him like he _knew._ He thought Gerard had an understanding of him as a person, not as a textbook example of assault. He bet Gerard wanted to go to college for psychology—he was no different than Dr. Roher.

“He just kept trying, that’s all,” Gerard added. “He didn’t get me…”

“Who?” Frank asked quietly. Gerard just shrugged.

“I never told.”

“But your mom—”

“I never told her who it was. I just told her what kept happening.” Frank grabbed Gerard’s pillow into a tight embrace, wishing it was Gerard.

“Why…why didn’t he…”

“He wanted me to say yes,” Gerard mumbled. “He did everything he could to convince me, but…I wouldn’t.”

“I wish I were like you,” Frank whispered.

“No you don’t,” Gerard mumbled. 

“You’re tough,” Frank sniffed. “You’re tough and I’m not…” He quit trying to talk and chose to sob, face-down into the pillow. “You’re like Tugger,” he cried. Gerard asked him to repeat, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was stupid.

“I can tell your dad,” Gerard whispered. Frank stiffened when he felt the bed dip beside him. Why was Gerard getting close? Why did he _want_ Gerard close?

What if Gerard did what Ronnie did?...Why did he want him to?

“Don’t,” Frank whimpered, curling into a tight ball. 

“Frank, you can’t live this way.”

“Frank?” Donna called for him loudly from upstairs. “Your dad is here and he is _not_ happy with you…”

“Frank, please tell him,” Gerard mumbled, getting off of the bed and going back to his desk. “You don’t need to get yelled at anymore, or be punished anymore.” Frank stared at Gerard and wanted to ask him to come back over.

“Frank!” Donna called.

“ _Frank!_ ” That was his father’s voice…

“I’m not telling them anything,” Frank sobbed as he forced himself to stand up from the bed. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt and knew it didn’t make him look any less pathetic. 

Gerard looked at him sadly and then lowered his face to his sketch.

“Frank, now!” His father yelled from upstairs.

Frank waited another few seconds for Gerard to say something to him, but the boy never did. He just kept sketching lines. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“What the hell is your problem!?” Frank’s father snapped as soon as they were inside his home. “You don’t just walk out of my house like that! I thought someone _took you!_ ”

“So what if they did?” Frank asked. It shocked him more than it hurt when his father slapped him across the face. The sting wasn’t bad, but it hurt someplace deeper. “I hate you!” Frank cried. The words weren’t meant for his father, but he still felt pleased when he saw the hurt consume his father’s face. “I hope you die on your way to work!” He didn’t really think when he said it, but it felt good to have the words out, even though he didn’t mean them. 

He turned and ran up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door as hard as he could. As soon as he reached his bed, he was overpowered by a feeling of self-loathing. How had it come to this?

Not even a year ago his dad had been his best friend. They joked and laughed and were happy—this was the only place he felt safe. Now he was terrified. He didn’t even feel comfort when he wrapped himself up in his sheets, so he just crawled out of bed and pressed himself up against the far wall.

He wanted his dad to come talk to him—he wanted his dad to stay away and leave him alone.

He wanted his dad to come upstairs and say “I know what happened, Frank. I called your mom.” He wanted Ronnie to go away…he wanted Gerard to say something! He wanted Gerard to take Ronnie’s place.

Frank started breathing heavily and pounded his fists against the sides of his head. The blows made him dizzy, but he just hit harder and faster until he was sobbing and disoriented and his vision had turned fuzzy. It was his fault everything had gone wrong! 

Frank fell forward onto the floor, not sure if it was of his own free will or not, and began shaking. His ears were ringing and when he heard noises that he thought might be outside of his room, they were distorted and strange.

He felt like he couldn’t move, and just sat slumped over on his bedroom floor. The door to his bedroom swung open and he heard his father’s voice, but couldn’t make out a word he said. 

Suddenly, he felt someone pulling him up by his arm and his dizziness became overwhelming. He tried to hold it back, but he threw up almost instantly and his arm was let go.

“What’s wrong with you?” Frank closed his eyes tightly and pushed his back back up again the wall. He tried to ask his dad the same question, but his tongue felt like a wad of cotton in his mouth and the words came out wrong. “Come on. Come here.” Once again, he was being pulled on. He tried to go in the direction that he was pulled, but his feet kept getting twisted and he almost ended up on the floor again. “Okay—lay down. Just lay down.” Frank squirmed slightly when he was pushed towards the floor. “Lay on your back.”

He tried to say that he didn’t want to, but he was already on the floor, and the words came out wrong again anyway.

“Just stay there—I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No,” Frank slurred. Why wasn’t anything working? He hadn’t hit his head that hard, had he?

If they sent him to the hospital, his dad would think Gerard did it. He didn’t want Gerard in trouble…he thought he was in love with him…


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Frank rolled his head sideways, felt a horrible twinge of pain and immediately turned it back. His head was pounding, and he could feel his pulse in his skull—never mind the rushing and ringing in his ears. 

“Dad?” He whispered. He tried to open his eyes, but there were bright lights over his head and they hurt so bad that he had to keep his eyes shut. “Dad?” He asked again, eyes starting to tear. His head hurt so bad and he was confused…he didn’t even think he was at _home._ “Dad!” 

“Shh—Frank, it’s alright.”

Despite the burn and excruciating pain from the light, Frank forced his eyes open to figure out whose voice that was and why they were talking to him. 

“Dad?” Frank asked again, staring up at a big panel of fluorescent lights.

“Your father is down the hall, talking to one of our physicians here.” Frank blinked hard and tried to locate the source of the voice. “Here, have a drink.” Frank found a styrofoam cup being pressed into his hand, and he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to survey the room.

It was a hospital. Immediately, he felt his heart rate pick up and began breathing heavily. It was all happening so fast. How did he get here? Where were his normal clothes? Why did the little clamp on his finger hurt so bad?

“It’s okay, Frank. Take a drink.” Frank brought the cup to his lips with a shaking hand and took a slow sip. His shaking rattled the ice against the sides of the cup and splashed water onto his face. “I’m Dr. Castillo. Do you remember why you came in tonight?”

“What?” Frank asked, shaking so hard he almost dropped his cup. The man beside him grabbed it just in time and set it on the floor. Frank finally looked up at the man’s face, but couldn’t look for long because he started feeling dizzy. He laid back down in the bed and tried to stop shaking. 

His doctor looked friendly—he was old, and smiling in a normal, non-sadistic way.

“Frank, do you remember why you came into the ER tonight?”

“No,” Frank said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to start panicking. His head hurt _so bad._ “I hit my head,” Frank whimpered.

“You hit your head?” Dr. Castillo asked in a leading tone.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. “It really hurts.”

“What did you hit your head on?” Dr. Castillo asked. Frank sniffed and tugged at the light, blue blanket that had been draped over him. He didn’t want to say. He didn’t want anyone to know he was going crazy. “Frank?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said quietly. 

“Well, can you tell me what you remember?”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head and then crying out with regret. “It really hurts!”

“We’ll get you some medication for that—Frank, you got a concussion from head trauma, which is why you’re here. Your dad said he found you in your room and that when he tried to help you up off the floor, you were disoriented, you were vomiting, and you had some trouble speaking. Do you remember?”

“No,” Frank lied. 

“Frank, we found bruises forming on both sides of your head…so, we know you didn’t fall, and that you didn’t walk into a door.”

“I hit my head,” Frank whimpered, lifting the hand that wasn’t attached to the heart monitor to his temple and wincing. He refrained from repeating that his head really hurt, even though he felt that this was the worst pain he’d ever experienced.

“What did you hit in on?” Dr. Castillo asked, keeping a friendly voice that Frank didn’t deserve. He’d hit himself so hard he ended up in the hospital, and he knew the doctors were going to blame his dad—or even Gerard.

“My hands…” Frank admitted.

“You hit yourself in the head?” Dr. Castillo asked. Frank nodded and opened his eyes again. 

“Yeah,” Frank whispered.

“Why did you do that?”

“I had a bad day,” Frank said, feeling pathetic when he started crying. There weren’t even any tissues to hide his face in. 

“What happened?” Dr. Castillo asked, picking up the cup off of the floor again and handing it back to him.

Frank took a quick drink and shook his head. If he said he and his father were fighting, they were going to think even more that his dad did this. 

“It’s okay,” Dr. Castillo said. “You can tell me. Don’t be afraid.”

Frank shook his head again and finished what he could of his ice water.

“I went to see my friend,” Frank said, trying to think of the best way to tell his story without making his father look like the bad guy. “And I didn’t ask permission…and when my dad found out I was embarrassed and…”

“Frank, in a little bit Mrs. Kent from Child Protective Services is going to come in and talk with you about this, okay?”

Frank covered his face with his hand and started sobbing. If they talked to his dad, then they were going to talk to his mom and Ronnie, and Ronnie was going to say that he found the pictures. It was over—everything was over.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Castillo said. 

“No it’s not,” Frank sobbed. “Dad didn’t do anything! He really didn’t—Dad doesn’t hit me.”

“It’s procedure when a minor comes in with an injury like yours. It doesn’t mean we’re blaming him for anything. We’re just making sure that you’re safe at home.”

Frank sobbed and let his cup drop to the floor in favor of pulling the blanket up to his face. It felt like his entire life was over. He wanted to curl into a ball and die…he wanted to feel strong like Gerard and say that it wasn’t his dad they needed to investigate.

Three words were all he needed: It’s Not Dad.

But he couldn’t say them. He was scared…his head hurt _so bad._

There was a knock on the door to his room and Frank whimpered. The doctor excused himself and Frank could hear him murmuring to whoever was at the door. Quickly, Dr. Castillo was gone, and a harsh-looking woman with blonde hair named Mrs. Kent took his place.

“Hello, Frank,” she said. He pretended she wasn’t there, but that didn’t help his case any. “Why are you crying?” She pretended that she was nice, but he knew she wasn’t.

“Because my head hurts and no one will give me anything to make it stop!” Frank said, sobbing hard.

“How did you hurt your head?” Mrs. Kent asked. 

“I hit my head,” Frank whimpered.

“On what?”

“I hit my head,” Frank repeated, lifting his hands this time and balling them into fists before pressing them against the sides of his head.

“And why is that?” Mrs. Kent asked, looking like she believed him. He was sure she knew that the bruises lined up.

“Because I had a bad day,” Frank repeated, keep his story as simple and straight as possible.

“What happened?” Frank told her the same thing he told Dr. Castillo. “But why did you attack yourself, Frank?”

“Because I felt bad,” Frank whispered. 

“Why did you feel like you had to hurt yourself because you did something wrong?”

And suddenly, the light was there. Bright, clear, and palpable. 

“Because I go to Catholic school, and that’s what happens when you mess up,” Frank mumbled.

“Oh,” Mrs. Kent said. Not like it a sudden realization ‘oh,’ but a quiet, understanding noise. “What happens at home when you mess up?”

“Mom says she’s disappointed,” Frank said, feeling more than nauseous. He wasn’t thinking about his mom. He was thinking about Ronnie and how hard Ronnie would beat him.

“And what about your dad?”

“Dad doesn’t do anything,” Frank said softly, wiping his cheeks on the blanket. “He’s…he only has to see me once a week, really. What does he have to be disappointed in? If he didn’t like something I did, he could just send me home.”

“Is that something he’s told you?”

“No,” Frank mumbled. “I just know…”

“Frank,” Mrs. Kent paused to take in a breath, telling him that she had another trick up her sleeve to crush his hopes. “You hit yourself hard enough to give yourself a concussion. That shouldn’t be possible. Have received any head injuries before?”

Frank looked away from her and flashed back to all of his fights with Ronnie. He’d been hit upside the head countless times. The worst was probably when he hit his head on his bed post. He’d practically blacked out that time…

“I get beat up at school,” Frank lied. “They push me into lockers and knock me down and stuff…”

“How long has this been going on?” Frank shrugged and told her it started after the divorce. “Frank, when they changed you out of your clothes, they noticed a lot of bruises.”

“I get beat up,” Frank stammered, terrified that she was going to tell him they knew he’d been raped and that they looked at him and saw. 

“You’ve been getting in trouble at school lately…Your school sent over a file when they called you in to talk to the counselor. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” Frank mumbled. “I don’t like my school.”

“Why?”

“Because of the bullies,” Frank said. “And I don’t like getting hit at school because I’m late because I walk slow because I got beat up.” Frank sobbed and tried to tell himself it was all acting, that he wasn’t actually speaking the truth. If he was tardy, he got sent to the headmaster’s office and paddled…and he was late because he couldn’t walk fast because Ronnie could sometimes be rough.

“Do you want me to talk to your mom about discussing different options with your school?”

“No,” Frank mumbled. 

“I will have to inform your school about the bullying, and with a little more supervision hopefully this problem will go away for you.” Frank didn’t know if he was safe yet or not. He knew Ronnie was going to tear him apart when he went home, but he hoped Ronnie would leave his dad out of it. “Now, the school also commented that you became very nervous when you thought they’d contacted your mother at home and not at work. Why was that?”

“B-because then M-Mom wouldn’t be at work,” Frank stuttered. Why wouldn’t they leave it be? Why couldn’t they just listen to him and believe what he said? Was he that easy to read?

“Even now you’re getting nervous. What’s at home?”

“Ronnie,” Frank mumbled. 

“Your mother’s boyfriend?” Frank nodded and stared at the clip on his finger. It really hurt… “Why were you afraid that Ronnie would answer the phone?”

“Because he’d know I was in trouble at school, and I’d get in trouble at home,” Frank whispered, starting to cry again. He just wanted to dive under the blankets and hide. Whenever he thought he was safe, his plan just seemed to backfire. 

“If you get punished at school, are you punished at home?”

“Yes,” Frank whimpered.

“What happens at home when you’ve done something wrong?” Frank bit his lip hard and shook his head. “Frank, what happened at home?”

“Ronnie hit me,” Frank sobbed. 

“How did he hit you?” Frank felt humiliated when he told her what happened, but he made sure to leave out how violent the beating had actually been. “Okay, Frank I’m going to go have a conversation with your mother. Your dad is here.”

As soon as Mrs. Kent stepped out of the room, his father came in. Frank tried to read his expression, but saw nothing but hurt.

Frank felt so guilty. If he hadn’t been so stupid, this wouldn’t have happened…he wouldn’t have made himself look as dumb and crazy as he was.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Frank whimpered.

“You scared the hell out of me,” his father said, coming over to the bed and pulling Frank into a nearly forceful hug. “I didn’t even know what to think…you scared me so bad. Don’t _ever_ do this to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said quietly, pressing his cheek against his father’s shoulder. If only his dad could just stay with him forever…then Ronnie couldn’t get him. “How long have we been here?” Frank asked, worrying about where he would be sent when it was time to go home.

“About four hours now,” his dad said, pulling back. Frank let him go easily since he didn’t want to look as nervous as he was. “You started having a seizure in the ambulance, and they said that you had a concussion.”

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled, pulling his blanket up closer to his chest. 

“They said that’s not normal…to have a seizure like that.”

“My head really hurts,” Frank whispered. 

“What did you hit it on?” Frank sighed and told his story for the third time. His dad looked confused and disappointed. “Frank…”

“Do I have to go back to Mom’s?” It only seemed likely that his mother would want to take him home with her since his father had “let him” get injured.

“She’d like you to,” his dad said, looking kind of sad. Frank felt horrible. He wished he’d hit himself hard enough to die…but he knew that wasn’t possible.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered. “I don’t want to go home…” He felt like he might burst out sobbing again, but tried to keep it back. 

“Why not?” His dad asked. Frank knew that Mrs. Kent and the doctor had probably turned both of his parents against each other.

“Mom’s going to be mad,” Frank mumbled. His dad tried to soothe him, but Frank ignored him. He knew he was nothing more than a disappointment. He deserved what Ronnie had coming…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was practically a nervous wreck by the time he got home…to his mother’s house. Though she and Ronnie fawned over him in the ER, he wasn’t fooled. When they got into the car, the charade started faltering. He knew what would happen when they got into the house.

“Frank, go to your room. I want to talk to you for a minute,” his mother said as she dropped her pursed onto the floor by the front door.

“Do you want me to talk to him, Babe?” Ronnie asked, rubbing her shoulder. Frank wasn’t even relieved when his mother snapped at him. 

“No! Just…go home, Ronnie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Frank hurried to his bedroom and curled up in his filthy blankets, feeling ashamed and guilty. He wanted to think his mother was going to talk to him about not needing to hurt himself, but he knew she was going to yell. 

He listened to his mother and Ronnie talk quietly, but never heard Ronnie leave.

“Frank, we need to talk.” Frank laid still as his mother came into his room and turned on the light. He wished she left him in the dark. She couldn’t see how pathetic he was in the dark. “Come on. Sit up— _sit up!_ ” Frank slowly sat up, but kept his blankets around his shoulders. “What the hell was this?” She asked harshly. “ _Hit_ yourself until you got a concussion?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank mumbled.

“Then you started telling them about school and getting in trouble with _Ronnie?_ Frank, do you _want_ them to take you away from me?”

“No,” Frank whispered.

“So what the hell happened?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your dad tells me he leaves you alone for ten minutes and you run away to the junkie neighbor’s, then you’re sick?”

“He’s not a junkie,” Frank said softly.

“I don’t care about him!” His mother screamed. “What were you thinking?—What’s gotten into you?”

Frank shrugged his shoulders and stared at his bed sheets. 

“Why would you tell them that stuff about Ronnie?” She asked. 

“Because she kept pushing me,” Frank whispered. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Ronnie _sincerely_ believes that you want him to leave. That you would go so far as to pull _this stunt_ to get him to go…”

“It’s not about Ronnie,” Frank said, beginning to cry. 

“Then what’s this all about? You _lied_ to that woman about getting picked on in school—you know they’re going to double check that and when they find out you lied to them, they’re going to come back. So do you want to tell _me_ the truth?”

“I _do_ get picked on,” Frank mumbled. 

“You don’t get pushed into lockers, Frank.”

“Yes I do,” Frank lied.

“You’re grounded,” his mother said firmly. “And if I find out that you’ve gone to that junkie’s house again, you _won’t_ be going back to your father’s.” His mom left the room with a huff of anger and Frank laid back down on the mattress. 

It was all becoming so overwhelming. He had no friends left except for Gerard, and now no one was going to let him see him again. 

It was like someone had crushed his heart in his chest. He was in more pain than ever before, and it was so forceful that he couldn’t even cry. It knocked the air out of him and all he could do was lie on the bed and stare at his wall. 

Everything was dark—everything was hopeless. Ronnie held all the cards… He knew that Ronnie would come for him soon. Maybe tonight, maybe the next night… Frank didn’t want hurt anymore—no one _wanted_ hurt. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth about Ronnie and watch his mother tear herself apart? Was he supposed to sacrifice himself for her happiness? 

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and thought back to different times. His life had never been explicitly _happy,_ but it had never before been as miserable as this. He wanted to go back to being small…he remembered when his parents would both sit together on the couch with him between them. His mother would read a magazine and his dad would watch TV, and Frank would watch both of them. 

Hours ticked by and Frank heard the house go silent. Slowly, he pulled himself out of bed and grabbed _Cats_ from underneath it. Carefully, he walked into the living room and listened to the sounds from his mother’s bedroom. It was silent. 

He pushed his tape into the VCR and sat down on the floor just inches away from the screen. He stared blankly at the cats that danced before him, ignored the static that rippled through the tape, and breathed shakily as he realized his video wasn’t soothing him. 

Frank bit his lip hard and stared at the cats—trying to pretend to be with them, but unable to feel comforted. 

Rum Tum Tugger danced across the stage, singing and moving and looking attractive and beautiful. Frank tried to pretend he was Gerard, but just felt more miserable. He wanted to see Gerard, not Tugger. He wanted Gerard to sing for him and hold him…If Gerard were here, he wouldn’t let Ronnie have his way. 

Frank pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his face against his knees. He was so lonely…the kids at school didn’t want to talk to a midget-freak, and the other parents wouldn’t let their kids play with him anyway since his parents were divorced and that was a sin.

Why did his parents get to “sin” and be forgiven, but Gerard couldn’t? Gerard didn’t look like a junkie. He was cool and had nice hair…and he drew a lot. Junkies didn’t draw. Junkies stood outside of scary apartments and threatened to kill people. He couldn’t see Gerard doing anything like that…

Frank looked back up at the screen and saw Grizabella creeping onto stage. Frank knew how she felt… The other cats scratched at her and ran away from her because she wasn’t pretty and she wasn’t clean like them. She would try to move and wouldn’t be able to because she was old and ill…

He was just like her…only he’d never been beautiful and he didn’t have a glorious past. He was just Frank…just stupid and ugly and crazy.

“Frank, turn that shit off and go to bed.” 

Frank jerked forward and almost smacked into the TV. Ronnie was standing directly behind him, hands on his hips. When he saw him standing there like that, he couldn’t move he was so stricken with terror.

“Did you hear me?” Ronnie snapped. Frank stared up at him and swallowed hard. Ronnie started towards him and Frank fell over onto his side, hoping to avoid any blow that would come. He didn’t want beaten while watching _Cats._ The tape was his safe place—his only escape from the pain. “I said turn this shit off,” Ronnie seethed, reaching past Frank and hitting the eject button on the VCR. 

Suddenly, Frank’s fear wasn’t for himself. He tried to grab for his tape when it came out, but Ronnie slapped his hands away and grabbed it.

“N-no!” Frank cried. He regretted it as soon as he spoke. As soon as Ronnie realized the tape was something precious, his face twisted with a smirk. “No, please, Ronnie—no!”

“Get back to bed,” Ronnie said, holding the tape up to his shoulder. Frank struggled to get to his feet, shaking and still dizzy. 

“Please, j-just give back the tape,” Frank asked, staring at him with big eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone,” Frank whispered. “Please, just give me my tape.”

“Oh, you want the tape?” Ronnie whispered. Frank stared at him, petrified. He _needed_ that tape. It was the only thing he had left… “Here, you can have the tape.” Frank barely had time to cry out before Ronnie dropped the tape to the floor and stomped on it hard.

“No!” Frank screamed, staring at the smashed plastic on the living room floor.

“Ronnie?” Frank’s mother appeared at the doorway of her bedroom. 

“No,” Frank whimpered, looking up at the man with hatred before running back to his room and slamming the door. 

“What’s going on?” He heard his mother ask.

“I came out here and stepped on this tape he had laying on the floor—now he’s freakin’ out.”

“He needs to stop leaving his crap everywhere,” his mother sighed. 

Frank went over to his bedroom window and stared outside—too disgusted to get in his bed and lay in the gross, tainted sheets. He started outside and started sobbing hard, not even able to breathe. He was lightheaded and tired, and he kept choking on his spit, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet Ronnie still attacked him. 

“Frank?” His mom opened his door and Frank screamed at her to go away. “Stop it! Ronnie said he’s sorry and that it was an accident. Stop acting like you’re four! It’s a fucking tape, Frank! I can buy you another one!”

Frank shook his head and pressed his head against his window.

“What, are you going to run away from home now, too? Stop it! Get in bed, or I _will_ get Ronnie in here.”

“I hate you!” Frank cried, turning away from the window and glaring at her. “You let him hurt me!” He screamed. “You let him hurt me and you don’t even care! I’ll _never_ forgive you!”

“Frank,” his mother said, grabbing his shoulders to keep him from walking away when he tried. “Stop this. What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“Everything okay?” Ronnie asked as he stepped into the room. He fixed Frank with a cold glare and Frank immediately bit into his lip.

“It’s…it’s fine, Ronnie. Just go back to bed.”

“He can’t stay here!” Frank cried, even though Ronnie had slept over before. 

“Frank, stop it!” His mother screamed, shaking him by his shoulders slightly. Frank felt like screaming. He bet if he screamed loud enough, the cops would come. He wanted to go hide—he wanted to watch _Cats_ but now that wasn’t possible. Ronnie took away the only thing that soothed him. 

“I’ll talk to him, Linda—I can talk to him for you.”

“No!” Linda said firmly. “Just go to bed. Frank, you’ve gotta stop acting like this. You’re being so immature.” Frank pushed her hands off of his shoulders and backing himself up against the wall.

Frank cried hard and covered his face with his hands. Ronnie was going to rape him again. Ronnie was going to beat him up and hurt him and he’d have nowhere to hide. He didn’t have _Cats_ and he couldn’t even turn to Gerard.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Ronnie had hit him with the belt again, and the beating had only gotten worse because Frank refused to cry for him. When breaking open the skin wasn’t enough to make Frank scream, he forced Frank to turn around and struck him between the legs with the belt once and that was all it took. Frank fell to the ground in a wailing, sobbing mess and Ronnie snapped another photo. 

He loved taking those photos, and it made Frank sick to have his humiliation and agony captured on film. How was it that so much obvious evidence could be floating around and yet nothing was seen and nothing ever stopped? 

It had been two days since Ronnie had smashed his tape, and Frank was already finding it hard to cope with the stress he was under. He tried to remember all of his favorite scenes, but it wasn’t as good as the real thing. 

“Bend back over the bed,” Ronnie said firmly tossing his belt aside and grabbing for Frank’s arm. Frank tried to pull away from him, but it was no use. He hurt badly and there was nowhere for him to go. “Bend over the bed or you’re getting hit more.”

“No,” Frank sobbed.

“Bend over the bed, or I’m telling your mom you got beat at school today.”

“No!” Frank cried, letting Ronnie throw him onto the mattress. 

“Now you’re getting hit more,” Ronnie said indifferently as he picked his belt back up. Frank grabbed for his pillow and buried his face in it. Ronnie beat him for another ten minutes, and started laughing when his blows raised droplets of blood. 

Then he took more pictures. 

“I’m telling Mom,” Frank cried.

“I’m telling her your dad did it yesterday.”

“I hate you,” Frank sobbed. Ronnie threw his belt aside again and rolled Frank onto his back. 

“Lift your knees.” Frank did as he said and spread his legs so Ronnie could get between them. He was afraid to fight. His body was wrecked and he didn’t want hit anymore. He didn’t want to have to scream or cry anymore. “Now tell me you want me.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and he shook his head. It was just like what happened to Gerard. But Gerard refused to say yes, and Frank wanted to be like him. He’d be strong like Gerard…just this once.

“Tell me you want me, Frank,” Ronnie said, running his hand between Frank’s legs and groping him. Frank whimpered and shook his head again. It was so much worse when Ronnie touched him. It made it so humiliating…he hated Ronnie, but his body acted like he liked him. It was so unfair. “Tell me you want me to do it, Frank.”

“I don’t,” Frank whimpered. He thought of Gerard and how he sketched carelessly on the corner of that page… He wanted Gerard to be here.

“Tell me you want me,” Ronnie said, forcing two fingers inside of Frank’s body. Frank screamed even though it didn’t hurt that bad. He wanted someone to hear. He wanted his mom to come home from her meeting. “Say you want me, Frank. You know it feels good.”

“It hurts!” Frank screamed. “I don’t want you! I don’t!” Frank started gagging when Ronnie took his fingers out and started undoing his pants. “I don’t,” Frank cried.

“You want me,” Ronnie said. “You’re desperate for a new daddy, and I know you’re a fag—you were watching _Cats!_ ”

“I want Gerard!” Frank sobbed. He knew it was the wrong thing to say when Ronnie punched him in the mouth. Frank whimpered and Ronnie forced his way into him again.

“Tell me how you want _Gerard_ to do this,” Ronnie hissed, thrusting hard and making Frank scream. Ronnie had been brutal before, but never like this. This was almost evil, and there was no way he could hide the pain from his mother. Ronnie didn’t make him bleed often, but he could tell he was bleeding today. “You want Gerard doing this to you, huh?” Ronnie seethed.

Frank closed his eyes tightly and tried to bite back more screams. He wanted Gerard here…He wanted Gerard to make Ronnie stop.

Suddenly, Frank’s body was jolted with an agonizing pain and the force was so hard he could only shout for a second before his voice broke.

“Off me!” Frank started screaming, using his fists to pound on Ronnie’s chest. “Off! Get off! Mom! _Mom!_ ” Frank kept punching and screaming and crying, but Ronnie never stopped and his mom didn’t come.

No one came.

Someone had to have heard him screaming, but nobody came.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank lay on his bedroom floor, pressed against the far wall. Ronnie had redressed him, stole his bloodied sheets, and told him to go to bed, but Frank couldn’t lie in the changed sheets. He couldn’t lay on that bed…Ronnie left because he wasn’t supposed to be over on Tuesdays, but Frank hadn’t moved.

He stared at his bed and trembled from pain and from fear. He was expecting the next blow and the next attack. He hated his fear, but refused to feel comforted by Ronnie’s absence. Ronnie could be back later…and he would have the printed out photos and would humiliate him with them.

All he wanted was to watch _Cats._ He wanted to feel safe and loved and _safe._ But no one was there to protect him…

“Frank, I’m home! I got us some fake chicken—I thought I’d give this stuff a try.” He heard his mother coming towards his room, but he couldn’t move to even compose himself or hide his devastation. “Does that sound okay?” His mother knocked on his door, but he couldn’t answer. “Frank? Are you asleep?” His mother opened the door and seemed a little startled when she saw the bed empty before she realized he was on the other side of the room. “What…what are you doing?”

Frank stared at her, but couldn’t answer. His throat was raw and his eyes were burning. He was expecting her to turn around and leave. He was so scared she’d yell and slam the door.

He didn’t want locked away by himself. He wanted someone to help him—anybody. He hurt _so much._ He couldn’t even move…

“Frank?” His mother came over to him and kneeled down at his side. “Where’d you get that bruise?” She asked, touching his face where Ronnie punched him. “Who hurt you?”

The phone in the kitchen began to ring and his mother looked over her shoulder at the doorway. He wanted to ask her not to go, but she stood up and walked away.

Frank closed his eyes and cried silently. 

“Bullied?” He heard his mom say. “Why didn’t the school call me? He’s so upset!”

Frank started sobbing. He wanted his mom to come to him and talk to him before listening to Ronnie. It felt like his heart was being ripped out, because now his mom would come back and ask him why he didn’t tell her about the bullying instead of asking why Ronnie had been here and why he had left before she came home…

“Frank?” Frank wanted to roll over and turn his back to her, but he couldn’t move. “Baby, what happened at school today?” His mother asked, coming back into his room and sitting down beside him. “Frank, why are you crying?”

“Mom,” Frank whimpered. It was all he could say. He couldn’t tell her…what good would it do?

“Why are you lying over here? Why aren’t you in bed if you’re tired?” Frank shook his head and flinched when she touched him. “Frank, what’s wrong?” She tried to get him to stand up, but Frank screamed involuntarily and she let go. “Frank, you’re scaring me.”

“Mom,” Frank whimpered.

“What, Frank? What happened?” Frank shook his head, wanting so badly to tell her. Gerard would want him to tell her…Gerard told his mom when he’d been threatened. But his attacker didn’t have photos. “You can tell me…”

“I can’t,” Frank whispered. “I-I really c-can’t.”

“Why, Frank? Why, what happened?” She asked, stroking his shoulder. “Come on, get up.”

Frank flinched once again and turned his face towards the floor. He wanted her to leave him alone—he wanted her to just _know_ without him having to explain.

“Frank, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” 

Frank whimpered and shook his head slowly.

“Do you need to go to the hospital? Did you hit your head again?”

“No,” Frank sobbed, rolling onto his stomach on the floor and moaning from pain.

“You’re scaring me—what’s wrong?” She ran her hand gently over Frank’s back in an attempt to soothe him, but Frank just trembled under her touch. “Frank?”

“He hurt me, Mom,” Frank cried, in too much pain to lie to her. 

“Who?” She asked, smoothing back his hair urgently as if it would somehow work the words out of him. “Frank, you need to tell me. I’m here. Tell me.”

“I can’t,” Frank whimpered. 

“Yes, you can,” his mother pressed. “Please, Frank. I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“You can’t help,” Frank cried.

“Why are you saying that?” His mother asked, her voice becoming pressing. “Who is it?”

“No,” Frank sobbed, thinking about the photos and _Cats._ Why did have to break his _Cats_ tape? He _needed_ that! It was the only thing that made him feel comfortable and safe…

“Tell me, Frank!” His mother pleaded. She sounded desperate, but she knew nothing of desperation. 

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Frank cried, feeling his world starting to crumble.

“What?” His mother shook his shoulder. “Frank, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” Frank whispered. 

“ _Please,_ Frank. _Please_ tell me…”

Frank closed his eyes tightly. He _knew_ this couldn’t go on anymore. He could barely move. And if Ronnie came back over tonight, he knew that the man would attack him again. He couldn’t go through that. He couldn’t even handle the thought. Ronnie would bring the photos and stick them in his face again and tell him awful things.

“Frank, come on. I can’t help if you don’t tell me… Who hurt you? _Please._ Who hurt you?”

“No, Momma,” Frank whimpered. 

“ _Why?_ Frank, what happened?” Frank couldn’t answer her. It was fear and shame and guilt…all of them stopped up his throat like a cloth gag. What was she going to think of him if he told her what he let her boyfriend do? She wasn’t going to want him around anymore. Christian boys didn’t let themselves be treated like that… Good Christian boys didn’t have sex with other men…

If his school found out, wouldn’t they kick him out? 

Once again, his mother tried to get him to stand, but her pulling just caused him pain. He cried out and pulled away from her, curling himself up against his bedroom wall.

“Frank, I’m gonna have to take you to the hospital,” she said.

“No!” Frank cried. He couldn’t go there—he’d have to talk to that woman again and they’d start blaming his father… They’d arrest his parents and he’d be stuck with Ronnie or someone even worse. “No, please—Mom, _please!_ ”

“Frank…I _have_ to. So please, get up…”

“No,” Frank whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Frank, get up—I _have_ to take you to the hospital.” His mother grabbed him by the arm and pulled him until he got to his feet, despite his cries of pain. Frank struggled to walk as she tried to get him to the front door. He limped with each step and nearly fell to his knees twice; his mother’s grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him off the ground.

He tried to convince her to let him go by saying that she needed put the fake chicken in the freezer, but she yelled at him and just kept pulling him to her car. He didn’t know what he would’ve done had she let him go…it wasn’t like he could run.

His mother forced him into the backseat where he refused to sit up and stretched out across the seat to spare himself any more pain. She tried to tell him to sit up, but he just buried his face in the bend of his elbow and cried. He was hurting, and there was nothing the hospital could do to make it stop. Even if they fixed the wounds, the pain would never go away…never.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank lie in the hospital bed with his knees up to keep his bruised and bleeding thighs from touching the bed. He had been forced to change into a hospital gown, and was hyperventilating at the thought of a doctor examining him for injuries. He didn’t want anyone to see him, and he _really_ didn’t want someone to touch him…

Still crying silently, Frank fisted his hands in the stiff, hospital bed sheet and stared at the curtain around his small, sterile area and trembled. He watched for any shadow or tremble of movement to indicate that the doctor was going to come in. They’d already told him what they were going to do to him, and no amount of screaming or crying changed their minds.

He felt more humiliation here than he ever had when he was held captive by Ronnie—why hadn’t Gerard prepared him for this? 

Suddenly, he saw the curtain ripple and his heart began pounding even harder. He didn’t even feel like he could breathe. He was ready to throw punches if they came anywhere near him—if he couldn’t hurt them, he’d just hit himself until he got another concussion! 

He wanted them to go away and leave him alone! They were making him regret that he ever told. 

“Hi, Frank,” the doctor said as she came in. She smiled too much and acted too happy to see him. She barely had time to mention her name before he burst out sobbing. He covered his face with his hands and breathed heavily, his hands becoming soaked with tears and spit. Even when he tried to calm down, he couldn’t. His entire body was starting to buzz and tremble—he started getting dizzy. He was afraid he’d pass out—he didn’t want to. He knew what they wanted to do when he was awake—what would they try to do to him while he slept? “Frank—Frank, it’s okay. Frank, it’ll be okay. Calm down. Just breathe.” Frank tried to listen to her, but as soon as he calmed himself, reminders of what was going to happen to him just came pounding back.

“Just go away!” Frank cried, knowing it was hopeless. He felt even more violated now. It wasn’t one person, it was an entire building full of people forcing him to submit. He was so terrified and cornered…

“Frank, I can’t do that.”

“Please?” Frank cried, his hands shaking as he pulled at the hair over his face. There was no way he could let them touch him. Gerard said he would be okay if he told—how was _this okay?_

“You understand that we have to do this to assess your injuries and to collect evidence. There was a lot of blood in your clothes, and we need to find out why you’re bleeding because some internal injuries can lead to death…” Her words neither convinced him nor soothed him. Touch was touch, and he would rather die. He was prepared to die... “Frank, we’re not doing this to hurt you.”

“You already took pictures of my bruises,” Frank cried. This doctor hadn’t taken the photos, but they were all interchangeable… They were all evil.

“Frank, we need to figure out why you’re bleeding—”

“Because he raped me,” Frank sobbed, scratching at his face with his hands. 

“ _Who,_ Frank?”

“Ronnie,” Frank cried, hoping that if he told them what they wanted to know, they wouldn’t force him to be poked at and swabbed.

“Who’s Ronnie?” the doctor asked.

“Mom’s boyfriend,” Frank cried. 

“How long has this been going on?” the doctor asked, rubbing his shoulder gently. 

“I don’t know,” Frank whimpered.

“Frank, we need to collect evidence in order prove anything.”

“No!” Frank cried. “He—He took _pictures!_ He’s got pictures, please!”

“He took photos of you?” The doctor asked. Frank nodded and kept his face covered. He just hoped if he kept telling them where to get other evidence, they’d leave him alone. He didn’t want raped by them, too. “Do you know where the photos are?”

“No,” Frank cried. “Please—I don’t want touched.”

“I understand that you’re afraid, but we’re not going to hurt you, and we won’t take any photos.”

“No,” Frank whimpered, squeezing his knees together.

“Frank, you have internal bleeding and we can’t let you leave until we understand why.”

“It’ll stop,” Frank sobbed. “It always stops.” The doctor sighed quietly and patted his shoulder.

“Frank, there’s a lot of blood. We cannot let you leave unless we do an exam to understand why.”

“No,” Frank whimpered. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, Frank. Believe me, we don’t want to have to do this to you.”

“Then don’t,” Frank pleaded. 

“We have to, Frank.” Frank cried quietly until the doctor agreed to leave. He knew she would come back, and probably with drugs or injections to make him sleep. It wasn’t that the bleeding didn’t scare him, but he would rather risk death than be humiliated even more. The thought of being examined and touched…it was no different if it was a doctor or Ronnie.

It just didn’t make one single shred difference…

( ) ( ) ( )

They had to him put to sleep… Frank hated them for it, but he was thankful that he wasn’t forced to endure their abuse and that he had no memory of it happening. When they tried to explain to him how necessary it was after the fact, Frank refused to listen to them and they quit explaining it to him. He just wanted to pretend like he’d won the argument and it had never happened.

As it was, he laid in the bed, cuddling the blanket that his mom had brought him from home. They’d transferred him out of the ER and put him into an actual hospital room that wasn’t separated from other patients by a curtain. 

His mom managed to visit with him for a few minutes before she was pulled back into meetings with Mrs. Kent from Child Protective Services. She apologized about Ronnie, but Frank tried not to listen. He didn’t want to hear her cry…he didn’t want her to know what he’d let happen. He wished he could go back and stop himself from telling her.

Why couldn’t he have just been like Gerard and not tell who it was who had hurt him? Why couldn’t he just be cool like Gerard?

After he’d woken up, he’d only been spoken to by his mother, a nurse, and his doctor. It had almost been two hours since someone had talked to him, and it was getting lonely in his bright, sterile room. Both of his parents were being interrogated by Mrs. Kent and her people…now he had no one to talk to him or even acknowledge that he existed.

Worse than living in terror was living alone…He felt anxious when he sat in that room alone. He didn’t know what was happening with his family, he was afraid his mom was going to get in trouble, and no one was telling him anything.

Finally, after almost three hours of sitting alone in ear-ringing silence, Mrs. Kent slid herself into his room.

“Hello, Frank,” Mrs. Kent said, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. “I just want to let you know that what you did today was very brave.” Frank looked away from her and wished the room could go back to being empty. The silence was better than interrogation. 

“Did you find the pictures?” Frank asked quietly.

“Well…Frank, the police went to Ronnie’s house, and they found some of your bed sheets, and some of your clothes, but they didn’t find any pictures.”

“B-But he took lots of pictures!” Frank cried. He knew there was already enough evidence against Ronnie, but he feared that without those pictures, Ronnie would go free. He knew his mom wouldn’t date him anymore, but he might still break in or grab him on the street…

“The officers are still searching the house for more evidence, and they’re also looking in your home just in case—”

“I threw away the ones he left at home,” Frank whispered.

“He left them at your house?”

“He left some…he would hide them in my backpack and then threaten to say my dad put them there. He was going to blame my dad!—Please don’t let him. My dad didn’t do anything!”

“We know,” Mrs. Kent said firmly. “We were able to match the DNA on your clothes and sheets with Ronnie’s.”

“Is my mom mad at me?” Frank asked. He regretted it as soon as he spoke. He remembered his mom saying that they wanted to take him away from her…

“No,” Mrs. Kent said, flashing him a big, fake smile. “No one is mad at you.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Frank whispered.

“And why is that?” Mrs. Kent asked, leaning back in her chair. It seemed safe to talk to her, but he didn’t want to tell her anything. She could take him away from his parents for no reason and put him with someone else…and what if those other people hurt him just like Ronnie? Who would believe him now? They’d just say he was trying to go home to his parents, or get attention…

But if he didn’t talk to her, then wouldn’t she do it anyway? And didn’t stalling make it worse?

“Well, why don’t you tell me how it all started, okay? You can take your time.” Frank looked down at his blanket and pulled it up to his chest. 

“He started touching me…and showed himself…to me,” Frank mumbled. He stared at the blanket as he spoke. He hoped she didn’t want him to give context, because talking about how he’d asked Ronnie first about what was going on with his body made him feel guilty. Wouldn’t she see it the same way?

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Kent said. 

“He made me do things…”

“What kind of things?”

“Sex things,” Frank whispered. “And took pictures of me doing them.” Frank sobbed and pulled his blanket up to cover his face. 

“Did he ever bring anybody else to the house?”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head. That was one thing he was thankful for, and one thing he’d never considered.

“So, other than the touching, has ever done anything else to make you uncomfortable, or that hurt you?”

“Well…when I got in trouble at school, Mom…” Frank swallowed hard and tried to figure out how to keep his mom from sounding guilty. He didn’t want taken away from her. He didn’t want to go into foster care and get raped by someone else. 

“It’s alright, Frank.”

“Mom said he could punish me, and he hit me really hard…” 

“Did you tell your mom?”

“Mom knew…and she said he wasn’t allowed to hit me anymore. She was really mad at him.”

“Did you ever tell your Mom about the touching or the pictures?” Mrs. Kent asked in a quiet, gentle voice.

“No,” Frank whispered, holding his blanket tight.

“Why is that, Frank?” Mrs. Kent asked again. “You don’t need to be afraid.” Her reassurance made him feel worse…

“Because Mom was happy and I didn’t want to ruin it…” Frank cried into his blanket, but tried to keep quiet. He wanted to stop crying. He wanted to be strong like Gerard. Gerard was hurt, but he drew instead. He didn’t cry like a pathetic baby…

“Weren’t you worried about yourself?”

“I was going to tell, but then he said he’d blame Dad and get him arrested…and if I didn’t listen to Ronnie, he’d get me in trouble with Mom and Dad. I was really scared,” Frank cried.

“Did you understand what was happening?”

“No,” Frank whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face between them.

“No?”

“Gerard told me,” Frank said quietly.

“Who’s Gerard?”

“My friend,” Frank said, hoping he wouldn’t get Gerard into trouble. “He lives next door to Dad.”

“And what did Gerard tell you?”

“He said that…guys could get raped, and when I asked how, he told me…”

“When was that?”

“Before Christmas…” Frank said. He knew what came next. She was going to ask how long it had been happening, and when he told her she’d get upset at him for not telling. She just didn’t understand! 

“It’s okay, Frank. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

“Is my school going to kick me out?” Frank asked, trying to get his weeping under control. He just thought about Gerard, and how Gerard just sketched. 

“No,” Mrs. Kent said. “Your school will be told what happened, and you’ll have the option of talking to the counselor, but you won’t be in any trouble and your classmates won’t be told.”

“Is Mom in trouble?” Frank asked quietly.

“No,” Mrs. Kent said. “We’re just asking her a few questions.”

“It’s not her fault,” Frank whimpered. “I wouldn’t tell her…”

“We know you were scared, Frank.”

“Can I go home?” He asked, looking at Mrs. Kent and hoping she’d let him leave.

“Soon, Frank.” She started moving as if to leave and Frank was almost afraid to have her go. He didn’t want left alone again.

“Can I see Mom?” 

“We’re still talking with her.”

“What about my dad?” Frank asked, biting his lip. “Please? He didn’t do anything!”

“Okay,” Mrs. Kent said, smiling at him. “He’s in the lobby. I’ll get him for you.”

Frank would’ve sighed in relief if he could, but he still felt tense and anxious. He just felt like it wasn’t over…


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

When they finally sent him home from the hospital, Frank was so nervous that he couldn’t stop shaking. Every few seconds his body would tremble as if he were outside in the cold, even though he was changed into fresh clothes and his mom had put her sweater around him.

He was afraid that she would yell at him as soon as they got into the car, but she didn’t. She kept her lips pressed firmly together and stared straight ahead as she drove out of the parking garage and down the lamp-lit streets. Frank stole quick glances at her, trying to read her expression in fractions of seconds, but never saw enough to really calm himself down. 

Did she love him anymore? She said she did in the hospital, but Mrs. Kent had been breathing down her neck and the doctors were all staring at her. The last time they’d left the hospital, she and his dad had both been mad at him…

Was it the same now?

Frank shivered and sunk into himself in the passenger seat of the car. He’d gotten her boyfriend arrested…she was alone now and everyone thought even less of her.

Of course she didn’t love him anymore…

Frank felt a tear running down his cheek and tried to wipe it away quickly. The sound of his sleeve shifting sounded like a gunshot in the car, and Frank started shaking harder. 

When his dad had come into the hospital room, Frank had been ashamed. He’d been a sobbing wreck and he didn’t want his dad to think he was so weak… His dad had given him a hug and told him that he would be there if he needed someone to talk to. But Frank couldn’t even talk to him. He felt so guilty. Not only had he ruined his mom’s life because of what he’d let Ronnie do, he’d also messed up his dad’s life, too.

If the church had shunned them before, it was really going to despise them now. His parents would never have friends again, and it was _all his fault._

Frank cried silently in his mother’s car because no one could possibly love him now. He’d destroyed everything. He didn’t know what he’d done to get Ronnie’s attention, but he was so, _so_ sorry. 

“Come on, Frank. We’re home.”

Frank hadn’t even realized the car had stopped. He stared out the window at the home he’d come to fear and shook as he opened his car door. His mom was at his side as he closed the car door and limped towards their house.

Was she going to start yelling once they were inside? Frank looked up at her nervously as she put the key into the front door. Would she hit him? Would she say she didn’t want him around anymore and was sorry she had to keep him?

Frank choked back a sob as the door swung open and his mom pushed his shoulder to get him to step inside. As soon as he was in, a surge of panic hit him and he stumbled back out the doorway.

What if this was a trick? What if they hadn’t arrested Ronnie and he was in there waiting for him?

“Frank? No, it’s okay—come here, come here.” His mom followed him quickly and put her hands on his shoulders to guide him back into the house. She closed the door and locked it behind them. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore, okay?” She said, kneeling down in front of him and trying to get him to look her in the eye.

He couldn’t do it. He was trying to look everywhere at once—looking for Ronnie or a sign that he was still there, hiding in the shadows and waiting with his belt and his harsh words. Frank sobbed and tried to pull away from his mother when she started rubbing his arms. 

She was being nice, but he couldn’t trust her. He’d taken her boyfriend away and now she was going to be lonely and unhappy. She wasn’t going to love him anymore. 

“It’s okay,” his mother whispered. “It’ll be okay. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. Okay?” Frank glanced at her and noticed that her composure was slipping and she’d started to cry. He felt horrible. He’d ruined her life…

“I didn’t mean to,” Frank stuttered, sobbing hard.

“What?” His mom asked, leaning back from him. “Mean to what?”

“Make him do it,” Frank whimper. He wanted her to still love him. She was his mom, and if his dad didn’t want him anymore, then she was all he had left. “I didn’t want him to!” He cried. “I didn’t want him to, Momma! I tried to make him stop.”

“No, no—shh. Hush. No.” His mother kept rubbing his shoulders and blinking away tears. “Frank, look at me—you need to look at me.” She took one of her hands off of his arm and gently grabbed his chin. “Look at me.”

Frank trembled as he met her gaze. He was waiting for the blow—the slap or punch. He wanted to scream when she touched him, but couldn’t risk upsetting her any more than he already had.

“Frank, this was _not_ your fault. You did _not_ cause this to happen. Okay?” Frank stared at her, heartbroken, wondering how she could lie to him when he was trying to apologize to her. “I should’ve protected you, and I’m so sorry I let you down. I knew something wasn’t right…I’m sorry.”

Frank cried out when she pulled him into a hug he wasn’t prepared for. She held him too tightly, but he didn’t squirm. Why was she holding him? Didn’t she know he was filthy?

“I won’t let you down again, Frank. I promise. And…” She looked away from him and looked over her shoulder at their small living room and chewed her lip. Tears kept falling from her eyes and Frank felt worse with each one. Despite what she had said, he still felt guilty. If it weren’t for him, she would be so much happier. “And I promise I’ll rebuy that tape, I know you liked that movie…I know he broke it on purpose, Frank. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She pulled him back into another crushing hug and he cried into her shoulder. 

He wanted to ask her if she loved him, but kept his mouth closed. If he pushed her, she’d refuse him and he’d have no comfort at all. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank remembered a time when he used to enjoy staying at his dad’s house… he remembered laughing about fake bacon and going to see movies. Now, Frank stared at his dad across the dinner table and tried not to talk. He didn’t want his dad to try to talk about Ronnie.

His dad had told him that Ronnie was going to pay for what he’d done in jail, but the more words he said, the worse Frank felt. No one seemed to understand his guilt. They told him not to feel bad, but what did he have to feel _good_ about? He’d seduced his mother’s boyfriend, he’d destroyed their relationship, and he’d told the whole story to a bunch of different people at the hospital. 

He’d destroyed his family’s already weakened reputation, he was being treated like a baby by his teachers, and he was starting to get bullied because the other kids didn’t like the favoritism. He wasn’t getting beaten up yet, but he knew that it wasn’t far off. 

“Are you doing okay?” His dad asked. Frank shrugged and looked down at his plate. He felt guilty for not eating meat anymore…vegetarian things were more expensive, and all he did was make himself look more like spoiled, whiny, picky eater.

He hated himself. He hated himself more than he ever hated Ronnie. 

“Frank, that’s not answer.”

Frank stared at his dinner, but didn’t want to eat. He wished he could just go to a slaughter house and be chopped up. 

“I’m okay,” Frank mumbled, poking at his food with his fork. Why did he think he deserved special treatment? He didn’t deserve expensive meat-alternatives because he saw a package of stupid videos…

“You don’t sound okay…”

“I’m just…not hungry,” Frank mumbled.

“You gotta eat,” his father said. They didn’t joke anymore. His dad didn’t smile at him, and their hugs were brief and awkward, like his dad didn’t want to touch him. Like Ronnie had tainted him…

He’d made Frank untouchable, and that meant no one else would ever love him. The world felt dismal and dark. He would cry over it, but he had no tears left. He was empty.

“Frank, you need to eat…”

“Can I go over to Mikey’s?” Frank asked, picking at his food and taking a small bite in hopes of encouraging his father to let him do what he wanted. 

“If you finish your dinner…but only for an hour.” Frank glared at his food and started forcing forkful after forkful into his mouth. He felt sick when he’d finished, but he’d managed to clear his plate in under ten minutes. “So that’s all it takes,” his father said with a sigh. “Go on…go see your friends.”

Frank stared at him for a minute before standing up from the table. Why did his dad have to make him feel guilty?

( ) ( ) ( )

When he got into Gerard’s house, he was told that Gerard was in bed early because he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t that Frank disliked Mikey, but Gerard…Frank _liked_ Gerard. He tried to get Donna to let him go down to Gerard’s room anyway, but she wouldn’t let him. She said he was really sick, and insisted that Mikey was closer to Frank’s age and that they should “hang out.”

So Frank gave in and went upstairs to “hang out” with Mikey. He didn’t _dislike_ Mikey…but he liked Gerard better.

“Hey,” Mikey said, less than enthusiastically. He was lying face down in bed and Frank felt like Donna should have just sent him home. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was certain that Gerard wasn’t sick.

Gerard was probably upset about something. 

“Is everything okay?” Frank asked, walking into the middle of the room and sitting down on the floor. There was a cd player on Mikey’s dresser that displayed “Track 01” on the front display. He’d been playing a cd and didn’t bother to restart it once it had run its course.

“Gerard’s having a bad day,” Mikey mumbled, slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position. “He and dad got into it again…”

“They fight?” Frank asked.

“Dad hit him again.” Frank stiffened and he turned his head to look out the doorway behind him. Alarm bells were ringing everywhere. 

“Again?” Frank asked. Mikey sighed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not…Like, people think it’s bad, but it’s not. _Gerard_ starts it,” Mikey mumbled. It took all of Frank’s willpower not to get up and run down to the basement to see if Gerard were okay. 

“What did he do?” Frank asked. 

“Dad…Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone—like…your dad or _anyone,_ ” Mikey said, sitting up a little straighter.

“Okay,” Frank said. “What happened?” 

“Dad caught him with _a guy_ in his bedroom again.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, furrowing his brow. “I’m a guy—I’ve been in his room.”

“No,” Mikey said, getting a weird look on his face. He almost looked excited, or humored… “Like… _together._ I’ve never even met the guy before. Dad threw him out before he even had all his clothes on. I watched from my window. Dad’s scary when he yells.”

Frank looked back over his shoulder at the doorway. Gerard had been with a guy, and his father had beaten him. Frank felt like he liked guys more than girls…would his parents attack him, too, if they found out?

“Is he okay?” Frank asked.

“Gerard pouts,” Mikey mumbled. 

“Does he get hit a lot?” Frank pressed, looking back at Mikey.

“No,” Mikey said. “It’s not like Dad _beats_ him. Gerard just starts arguing and Dad slaps him to make him stop. He wouldn’t have to if Gerard would calm down on his own.”

Frank didn’t like any of it. He was scared for Gerard. 

“Gerard told me…that someone tried to hurt him when he was younger,” Frank said quietly. Mikey looked at him with wide eyes and shook his head.

“We don’t talk about that,” Mikey said in a voice that was barely audible. 

“Why not?” Frank asked, biting back his assumptions that Gerard’s father had been the open hurting him. 

“ _Because,_ ” Mikey whispered. He closed his eyes tightly and laid back down on his bed. Frank stared at him in silence, not sure how to proceed. He didn’t want to push too hard, but he wanted to know. If someone was hurting Gerard, Frank wanted to save him. Maybe then Gerard would like him… “It makes Gerard freak out,” Mikey said quietly. “He’ll lay in bed all day and get really depressed.”

“But he said…Gerard said they only tried to hurt him, why would he act like that?”

“Because Gerard’s a liar,” Mikey said. He looked like he might cry and Frank felt immediately guilty. “That guy hurt him. He hurt him all the time.” 

“Is he okay?” Frank asked softly. 

“Now…kind of,” Mikey whispered. “Can we not talk about it?”

“What cd were you listening to?” Frank asked, turning back to look at the cd player on Mikey’s dresser. There would be more time to ask about Gerard when it didn’t upset everyone. Frank knew the kind of pain he was causing in Mikey, just by bringing up the bad memory. He didn’t want to be that kind of person…he didn’t want to be like his parents.

“Iron Maiden…”

“I like Iron Maiden,” Frank mumbled. 

“You’re weird for a Catholic schoolboy…”

“I’m only there because it’s where my mom wants me to go,” Frank said, scanning Mikey’s room. It was really messy…

“Gerard keeps getting kicked out of schools,” Mikey said. Frank didn’t understand…it seemed like Mikey didn’t want to talk about Gerard, but he seemed to find a way to add him to the conversation.

“Why?”

“He fights…We had to move because of the juvie thing, but now he gets beat up at school.”

“Because he likes guys?”

“That’s part of it,” Mikey admitted. “He won’t…dress normal or anything. He gets picked on because he’s different.”

“You dress different,” Frank said, not really having any idea about what normal non-Catholic schoolboys dressed like.

“Yeah, because Gerard is cool. They just don’t know it.”

“I like Gerard,” Frank muttered. He didn’t know if he said it because he wanted to confess his weird feelings, or if he just wanted Mikey to know that he didn’t dislike his brother.

“Obviously—you don’t come over to hang out with me. You come over to hang out with Gerard.” Mikey looked a little wounded and Frank bit his lip. He didn’t want Mikey to feel like the lesser brother. Mikey was cool…he was cute too, but Gerard…Gerard was _perfect._

“Did they catch the person who hurt Gerard?” Frank asked, changing the subject. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to see Gerard…he wasn’t willing to spill his secrets to Mikey.

“No,” Mikey mumbled. “They said there wasn’t enough proof and that was when Gerard started…the drugs.” 

“Gerard’s not a junkie,” Frank muttered.

“I know,” Mikey said. “He’s been clean since he got home…except, you know, the dudes in his bed all the time.”

“All the time?” Frank asked. 

“Okay, not all the time,” Mikey muttered. “Just a lot.”

“That’s cool,” Frank mumbled, at a loss for anything else to say. 

“Cool? I wouldn’t think that was cool…”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled, thinking about Gerard. How could Gerard have been attacked and still let other people touch him? Frank couldn’t even touch himself to _bathe_ without feeling sick…

Gerard was perfect…Gerard was able to recover.

“So…he has a boyfriend then?” Frank asked. He didn’t know why the thought hurt him so much. Gerard was older than him, and he knew they couldn’t be together—and that Gerard wouldn’t want baggage like him around anyway. Frank just wanted Gerard to himself…even if it was just for a little bit.

“Not really,” Mikey said. “He just knows a lot of different guys.”

“Isn’t it hard for him?” Frank mumbled. “After…after he was hurt like that?”

“I think that’s what started it,” Mikey whispered. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about it anymore…”

“Sorry,” Frank mumbled. He ended up going home shortly after their conversation ended. Mikey was in no mood to talk and Gerard wasn’t allowed to have friends over. It made Frank feel unwelcome, and he guessed that he was since he had invited himself over.

He walked back to his father’s house feeling low and confused. How was Gerard able to be with those other guys? _How?_

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank bolted awake and fell out of bed. His bed sheets fell off with him, but didn’t cushion his landing on the floor. Pain shot through his hip bone and he whimpered softly through the tears that were already on his face.

“ _Frank?_ ” He heard his father’s bedroom door open as he came rushing down the hall. His father opened his door and immediately flipped on the light. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Frank muttered, moving to stand up, but freezing immediately. The front of his pajama pants was soaked through with piss and was starting to turn to cold. Instantly he began to feel the shame burning at his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s the matter?” His dad asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and attempting to pull him out. Frank resisted him. “What’s wrong?” Frank just shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to say it—to admit that he’d actually wet the bed like a three-year-old. Even if it was brought on by the nightmare, Frank still felt guilty. He felt like a toddler…so stupid—so disgusting. “Okay,” his dad said, apparently figuring it out on his own. “Don’t worry about it.” His dad backed away from him and grabbed him another pair of pajama pants. “Just go clean up in the bathroom. I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank sobbed, covering his face with his hands. Even after Ronnie had been put away in jail, he was still affecting Frank’s life. It wasn’t every night, but on random dates he would have the awful nightmares about Ronnie beating him and raping him. Sometimes they wouldn’t even be memories—they’d be sudden, awful fabrications of his mind.

He would dream that he was in the park and out of nowhere Ronnie would appear. Sometimes Ronnie would appear in dreams about his dad’s house, or even Gerard’s…

Ronnie had tainted every part of his life—even the secret places.

Frank wanted to talk to Gerard about it, but every time he’s tried to go see him, Gerard would be in trouble, or out of the house, or too upset to talk to anyone. It was like Gerard didn’t like him anymore, and Frank hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him that he’d ratted Ronnie out. Unless his dad had told Gerard’s parents, but Frank felt like this was something they were all trying to keep “in the family.”

The more he was kept from seeing Gerard, the more he started to feel like Gerard didn’t like him. He really liked Gerard, and he didn’t know what he would do if Gerard opened up and actually said that he didn’t like him. Didn’t like him at all because he was a filthy, ruined, immature _child._

Frank threw his soiled night clothes into the laundry basket in the bathroom and started the shower. He’d taken a shower before bed, but once he was under the water, just cleaning his thighs wasn’t possible. He had to clean everywhere—from head to toe—because he felt filthy and he wanted to scrub himself clean. 

Though he knew that he could never wash away the things he let Ronnie do, he tried. He tried so hard… He used the bath soap on the inside of his mouth, even though he brushed his teeth. Frank found himself nearly hyperventilating in each shower when he forced himself to clean himself on the inside where Ronnie had always hurt him. He hated touching himself there—hated it so, so much—but he didn’t feel clean if he skipped it. 

Just like with Ronnie, he forced himself to accept the touch. It was beneficial in the end. He’d been able to keep his mom’s relationship alive, and if he put up with his own touches, he’d eventually be able to wash away the grime…

At least he hoped…

He really, really tried.

Frank gasped when his fingernails scratched him and started whimpering. He looked at his fingers and saw blood on them and almost began to panic. He wanted to scream for his dad, but knew he couldn’t. The bleeding wouldn’t be bad, and the pain couldn’t be helped…and how would he explain it?

Frank began breathing heavily. What would his dad think of him if he saw the blood? Would he think he did it on purpose? If his dad found out he touched himself like that—even if he did, it was only to clean himself—wouldn’t that make him think that he’d liked what Ronnie did?

“No,” Frank whimpered, sinking down to the floor of the shower. He hadn’t liked the way Ronnie touched him—not even when Ronnie made it feel good. The good feelings just made his mind feel worse—it made him feel sick and guilty. 

He wanted to be clean. He just wanted to get clean…


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

It had been a long time since Frank had been able to even catch a small glimpse of Gerard, but now that it was summertime and school had been let out, Frank’s chances more than tripled. 

The custody arrangement his parents had in order allowed him to stay with his father for five weeks during the summer—five whole weeks! That gave Frank all of the chances in the world to see Gerard.

More than spending time with his father, Gerard was what had Frank so excited.

He’d thrown his suitcases into his father’s car and practically bounced up and down in his seat the entire drive.

“I have to say…” his father mumbled, sounding afraid to talk. “It’s good to see you have this much enthusiasm again…”

Frank only hummed, trying to keep bad memories from coming back. His family had tried everything to forget what he’d been through. Nightmares went uncomforted, fear of touch was harshly scolded, and any attempts to ask what happened to Ronnie after the court case got him sent to his room.

He didn’t know if his family meant to or not, but they really had successfully made him feel that it was his fault for everything.

Frank was finished crying over it, though. He wanted to move on and be with Gerard.

And he had a plan, too. Being with Gerard as a friend wasn’t enough… He _needed_ Gerard—in that _special_ sense of the word. If he got Gerard to do what Ronnie did, Frank was sure all of the nightmares would stop. Gerard could take Ronnie’s place…

Gerard could be so much better—because he was like Tugger. He was sexy and touchable and _curvy…_ Frank wanted him. He wanted him _so badly_ that the no longer even felt guilty about it.

At night, he lulled himself to sleep with thoughts of Gerard’s arms around him…and sometimes down his pants.

Okay…down his pants more often than not, but it wasn’t _just_ a physical thing.

Gerard had emotions, too. He was a real person. Frank could never forget about that…

Gerard trembled when he first heard about the pain Frank had endured. He’d shook and backed away…he’d been so frightened and so overcome that he’d called for his mother. He had a troubled past and he was trying to get redemption, but he just kept getting beaten down. And he was hit by his dad a lot, even though Mikey had insisted otherwise. 

He also had lovers…

At school, someone like Gerard would have been called a “faggot whore,” but Frank just found his “sexual liberation” freeing. It was fascinating. Frank tried to fantasize about other men…like his math tutor and the boys on the soccer team, but he could never imagine himself going through the acts with anyone other than Gerard.

He still felt grounded while Gerard was free to love whomever he chose. 

Frank was going to seduce him…somehow.

When his father pulled into the driveway of his house, Frank stared at Gerard’s home and felt doubt sink into his stomach. 

How was he going to win someone like Gerard? He was just a broken, emotional wreck.

If Gerard felt anything for him, it would just be pity.

They’d never fuck, and Frank knew that he could never get himself to go through with it if the opportunity did arise. Gerard would go to put something inside of him and he’d just start to cry.

He’d tried to finger himself and all he ended up doing was hyperventilating and throwing up. It was a stupid idea…and he still felt ashamed for touching himself that way—no matter what excuse he made up for himself.

Oh, he was trying to get over the touch. Oh, he was just _exploring_ his body. Oh, he just wanted to see if it felt okay if it didn’t hurt…

But in the end he was still doing things that he’d learned from Ronnie and that made him feel bad.

“Come on, Frank,” his father said when Frank had stared at the house for too long. 

Frank ducked his head and walked into his father’s house. He carried his suitcase upstairs and started unpacking right away. 

He found himself doing a lot of random chores to keep himself from thinking about his life. When he thought for too long, his thoughts always went to Ronnie and led him into a depression that it was almost impossible to crawl out of. 

Wanting Gerard was no different than wanting a personal sense of peace. It was something he could not have…something he aspired for knowing he could never seize it. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gently, Frank knocked on Donna’s front door. He was nervous to the point of shaking, but tried to keep his throat from closing up as he waited for her to come. 

“Oh, Frank! We haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” It was official now that she and her husband had no idea about what had happened between him and Ronnie, but they did know that someone had abused him. That was the only detail Gerard had given them, and Frank appreciated that. 

That was the sole indicator that he and Gerard could still be friends, even after the awkward encounters they had had.

“Is…Gerard home today?” Frank asked softly. He stared at Donna with awkward, large eyes that he knew would help his cause. Women fell for big eyes. He used to use it to keep from getting sent to the headmaster’s office when he’d been younger. Now he no longer needed big eyes to avoid that—apparently being raped made it so Catholic priests didn’t want to touch him.

“Gerard?” Donna asked softly. “Yeah…um. Well, he’s in his room.” She backed away from the door to allow him inside and Frank slowly crept inside. “Go…go on down,” she added. She sounded dismal, like she didn’t really want him to see her son, but was realizing that she wasn’t able to stop him.

Frank walked slowly down the basement stairs, feeling strange that Gerard was made to live in the basement of this home instead of the living room…or the dining room. Somewhere at least close to the family so it didn’t look like he was being hidden away. 

“Gerard?” Frank asked as he stepped down into Gerard’s bedroom. The overhead lights were on and he could hear Gerard’s pencil scraping across a sheet of paper.

Gerard looked back at him from his desk and stared at him with a strange, tired gaze.

“What…what are you doing here? You haven’t been around in months.”

“Your mom kept saying you weren’t home,” Frank stammered, feeling a blush overcome his cheeks. Standing here, in front of Gerard, made him feel so tiny and so overwhelmed. Gerard looked more beautiful than ever before. His skin had just a little bit more color than before, and his hair had been trimmed but was still long and greasy like always. 

“Hu…” Gerard said, a noncommittal tone, as he turned back to his work. “So…what are you doing here?”

“Um…I…” Frank looked down at the floor and felt a small smile steal his lips even though he was more embarrassed than happy. Just seeing Gerard made him feel practically giddy. It had been so long since they’d been around each other, and Frank had almost forgotten how much charm the real Gerard had. The man of his fantasies was mostly just seductive, but Real Gerard was cute, too. 

“What?” Gerard asked, looking at him again. This time he looked annoyed.

“I…I missed spending time with you,” Frank stuttered. 

“You’re a freak,” Gerard said almost coldly. The words struck Frank like a blow to the face and he sunk his teeth into his lower lip hard.

“I…” In three words, Gerard had shattered the fantasies he’d built up over the months. He almost wanted to sink down on the floor and cry. 

“ _What?_ ” Gerard snapped.

“I just…It’s nothing.” Frank took a step back towards the stairwell. “I’m sorry for…for bothering you.”

What had he been thinking? Gerard didn’t even like him—Gerard had _never_ liked him.

“Oh, don’t start crying!” Gerard called, getting up from his seat and coming Frank’s way. “What is it you want? You can’t just come over here every time you’re in the mood to cry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you _not_ cry! Now what’s wrong? Didn’t you tell already?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, looking down at Gerard’s Converse shoes. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, lowering his tone of voice and crossing his arms over his chest. “So…did he get arrested?”

“I think,” Frank mumbled. “I’m not really…allowed to talk about it.”

“What?” Gerard asked, his face twisting with confusion. “Your parents don’t let you _talk_ about it?—or they don’t want you to talk about it to other people?”

“At…at all,” Frank said, looking up into Gerard’s greenish eyes. He was unreadable.

“And they expect you to get better how?” Gerard asked.

“Just forgetting, I guess,” Frank mumbled. “I tried, but…”

“Idiot—you don’t just forget that!” Gerard snapped. “How have you been coping?”

“What?” Frank asked, looking up at Gerard in surprise. He didn’t want asked that. That was one question he could not _discuss_ with Gerard. Coping? There was no coping…there was just replacing images of Ronnie with fantasies of Gerard.

“How are you coping if you can’t talk about it? Are you seeing like…a counselor or…are you keeping a journal? I mean…I kept a sketch journal of like…my nightmares and things.” Gerard stepped away from Frank but kept a watchful eye on him as he walked over to his desk. “Do you…keep a journal?”

“No,” Frank said softly, walking slowly toward Gerard’s bed and sitting down.

“So, you still haven’t answered me. How are you coping? If you don’t _talk_ about it, what are you doing to _deal_ with it? I mean…Frank, have they helped at all?”

Frank stared at Gerard’s bed sheets and remembered how, the last time he was here, he’d been desperate to catch a wisp of Gerard’s scent and it had all been washed away. Now, the smell of Gerard was all over the room, and the smell from the sheets would probably be overpowering. 

“I try not to think about him,” Frank whispered, picking at the blanket.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t work,” Gerard said, sitting down at his desk. “That just causes flashbacks, don’t you know that?”

“I’m figuring it out…”

“So…talk to me. I know that’s why you’re here. That’s the only reason you’re ever here.”

Frank looked at the floor because he couldn’t bear to see what expression was on Gerard’s face. Was he skeptical? Was he angry or annoyed or just _pissed off?_

“Come on. Talk to me. No one else is listening to you, so…what happened?” Gerard kept staring at him, but Frank couldn’t speak. “Go on. You can even cry if you have to—I’m not going to say anything mean.”

“I have lots of nightmares,” Frank whispered. Old emotions pulled at him, but he tried to push them away. It was in the past now. He didn’t need to let himself feel sad anymore. “But…I mean, it’s over now. I’m over it.”

“No you’re not,” Gerard said brutally. “How can you even try to say that?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, a tear falling from his eye. He tried to wipe it away, but more just started falling. “People don’t want to touch me anymore—I can’t even get my mom to give me a hug,” Frank wept. “I didn’t mean to tell—I tried to keep it back.”

“Kid, let that go. You _had_ to tell. If you didn’t, he was going to hurt you worse. How bad was it when you told?”

“No,” Frank whimpered, not wanting to go back there. It was in the past and he was supposed to be able to let it go and forget.

“Tell me. Come on. You’ll feel better…”

“I had to go to the hospital and they kept asking so I told them—he said he was going to get my dad arrested so I had to.”

“Frank, what did he do that night?” Gerard asked. Frank finally looked up at him and saw concern and horror on his face. 

“Kept beating me…and…” Frank exhaled heavily and tried to keep himself from breaking down into sobs. “He raped me again and…I kept bleeding.”

“Is anyone hurting you now?” Gerard asked quietly.

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head and wiping his eyes on his sleeves as fast as he could. He didn’t want to look weak in front of Gerard. He wanted Gerard to like him, not pity him…

He wanted Gerard to love him, and no one loved damaged goods.

“When the memories get bad, tell me how you cope. What do you do after your nightmares?”

“Try to calm down,” Frank said, trembling slightly. “I think of _Cats_ and…sing a little—it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid—I remember, you like _Cats…_ ”

“You remind me of Tugger…the cat, you know?” Frank said, looking at Gerard hopefully. If they changed the subject, he could stop crying…

“ _How?_ ” Gerard asked, looking mortified. 

“Because…Because he—um…He’s…”

“Ah, man,” Gerard said, getting up slowly and shaking his head. “He’s the sex one— _no._ Don’t…don’t get a crush on me-- _please?_ Please, don’t crush on me…”

“What? N-no, I…” Frank began blushing horribly, even though his heart felt like it had been broken. He’d been rejected and not only rejected, but practically spit upon. Gerard looked pained by the idea that Frank would even find him attractive. “I’m not…I don’t like…guys,” Frank lied.

“Oh,” Gerard looked relieved and Frank lowered his head. “Well, then you won’t have to worry about reliving your nightmare every time you’re with your lover.”

“Mikey said you had a lot of boyfriends,” Frank said, trying to fight the pain. “Is that what you do?”

Gerard growled and started sketching again.

“I like getting laid—I’m not letting some guy’s attempts to mess with me get in my way of fucking.”

“But, I thought…I thought he got to you—that’s why you know how to help,” Frank pressed.

“No—No! I said that he _tried,_ ” Gerard argued. “I said he tried, and that he wouldn’t do it until I said yes—and I never said yes to him. He was fucking repulsive.”

“Mikey said that—”

“I don’t give a fuck about what Mikey said!” Gerard shouted. “I didn’t say yes!”

“But he did it anyway, right?” Frank asked, almost glad that Gerard was the one beginning to get worked up instead of him. 

“Fuck off!” Gerard said, his eyes instantly becoming bleary with tears. Frank looked at him in shock and shook his head helplessly. “You weren’t there! You don’t _know!_ ”

“I…it’s okay,” Frank whispered, staring at Gerard. He was afraid that Gerard might lunge at him and attack, but was almost more afraid of being told to leave. Even if Gerard didn’t like him back, Frank wanted to be around him… Just being close to him made him feel so safe. 

Gerard quickly turned back to his sketch and began scraping at the paper almost desperately. 

“Gerard?”

“ _What!?_ ” Gerard shouted before crying out when several tears hit his page with loud splashes.

“Maybe…if you accepted that it happened, you’d feel better,” Frank said daringly. He didn’t know why he’d made the comment, but the look of hurt of Gerard’s face made him regret ever speaking. That look made him feel worse than any of Ronnie’s beatings combined.

“Well, when you get fucked in an alley by your best friend twice a week, then you can tell me how good it feels to accept it.” Gerard squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hands. Frank stared at him sadly and got up from the bed after a moment of uncertainly. “He was supposed to love me,” Gerard choked out. 

“I…I’m sorry,” Frank said, going slowly over to the desk. 

“Whatever,” Gerard snapped, opening his eyes again and tearing out his sketch and crumpling it into a ball. “Go home—I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Why do you offer to help me if you can’t even figure out yourself?” Frank asked, backing away and giving up his attempt to offer Gerard any comfort. It was like Gerard had become as useless to him as his parents were, and that was painful. Gerard had been his last resort. He really had nowhere else to turn.

“Go away,” Gerard said quietly. Frank noticed that, beneath the desk, Gerard was squeezing his legs together tightly, protecting himself from an attack that had already happened. 

“Gerard?”

“I said go!” Gerard shouted.

“Fine,” Frank mumbled, backing toward the stairs and lowering his head. Why did he always have to ruin it when he got near Gerard? He wanted them to be together…he didn’t want to scare Gerard away. “Sorry,” he added. 

Frank retreated from the house like a dog that had been kicked. He managed to escape without Gerard’s mother hearing him, and when he got home his dad was in the bathroom. When he reached his bedroom, Frank threw himself down onto his bed and sighed deeply.

If he ever wanted to see Gerard again, he was going to have to strategize… He would have to be crafty. He needed the best way to get into Gerard’s heart.

But how was that going to work now that he’d accidentally told the other boy that he was _straight?_

And words Gerard said were haunting him still…

How was he ever going to be able to keep a boyfriend if he couldn’t sleep with him without being reminded of Ronnie? Gerard was obviously still traumatized, but he was able to let that go to be with his lovers…how could Frank manage to achieve the same? He didn’t want to have that many guys to sleep with, but at least one would be nice.

Specifically Gerard… He really just wanted to be with Gerard.

“Frank? Are you home?” His father called from downstairs.

“Yes,” Frank growled. He didn’t want bothered. He was depressed and lonely—he wanted Gerard! He wanted Gerard and there was nothing in the world that was going to stop Frank from getting him!

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard laid in bed that night, staring at his dark wall in his pitch black basement tomb. It was cold… He stayed under the blankets and sank his teeth into his lip. 

For once, he wasn’t upset—he was nervous…curious.

His mind just wouldn’t shut off. It kept turning and whirring and buzzing. The noise was keeping him awake no matter how hard he tried to sleep.

It just kept going back to the brat next door. What kind of kid was he? Under all of his weird acts and mood swings, who was that person? He just kept coming around and asserting his presence.

What was the point? Why did he want Gerard’s attention so bad?

Mikey was his age…Mikey was fun, and pretty much Gerard’s carbon copy. Why didn’t Frank want to hang out with him instead? Because Mikey didn’t want to constantly talk about _rape?_

Yeah, Gerard understood that the kid needed someone to talk to, but come on… Gerard didn’t want to have to relive his traumas just to help this strange kid.

Maybe he’d get his mom to talk to Frank’s parents about actually getting him some counseling…

It would help him. It wasn’t like Gerard was in anyway qualified to help him out. He didn’t know what to say to him other than face your issues and move on.

Frank was just a kid… He needed someone to look out for him and make sure he didn’t lose his mind. It was hard to get over being used like that—especially if the guy had had Frank wrapped around his finger for so long.

Gerard felt guilty. He should’ve told his mother exactly what he knew when he’d found out. He should’ve told her Frank was being hurt instead of trying to get Frank to do it himself—instead of acting like a spazz and making it all worse.

Why did Frank come to _him?_

He couldn’t help anyone…

He wasn’t good for anything…

When his mind just wouldn’t quit, Gerard crawled out of bed. It was two in the morning, but he knew one person who, for sure, wasn’t sleeping.

He didn’t have a cell phone that he could use, but he just crawled up the stairs into the kitchen and picked up the home phone off of the counter. 

He dialed the only number other than his own that he had memorized by heart.

“Hey,” Gerard whispered.

“What’s up? It’s late.”

“I can’t…I can’t sleep,” Gerard said quietly, looking around the dark kitchen.

“You want to come over?”

“I can’t,” Gerard answered. “Can you come here?”

“Gerard, Babe, your dad tried to kick my ass last time.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Gerard said. “Please? I can’t sleep…”

“You can come here.”

“But…it’s two in the morning. I can’t walk across the city at two in the morning…”

“I’ll come get you.”

“Really?” Gerard asked. His chest was becoming tight, and it felt like drops of boiling water had been spilled into his stomach. He didn’t want caught sneaking off…

“Yeah, Babe. I’ll even try to get you home before its light out.”

“That’ll be in, like, three hours.”

“So? We’ll have time for a little fun—a little ‘wear me out, wear you out’ and you’ll be sleepy in no time, Babe.”

Gerard sighed and looked through the kitchen at the dark living room.

“Okay. Please hurry…I really just don’t want to be alone. You know? I just…it’s dark, and I’m cold.”

“It’s summertime, Babe. How are you possibly cold?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard whimpered. “Are you coming?”

“Babe, I gotta get my keys. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Okay? Can you wait that long? Will you be frozen to death by then?”

“No,” Gerard said quietly.

“Okay—I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks,” Gerard whispered. “I love you.”

“Oh, God—Gerard? Why do you _always_ gotta bring love into it?”

“I…” Gerard sank down onto the kitchen floor and started to cry. “I just love you, Nick. I just want you to know—you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, and you mean a lot to me, but, Gerard, we’ve only been seeing each other for like—what? Not even four months. It’s not _love._ Okay? You’re just…you’re just being clingy.”

“Are you still coming over?” Gerard asked, trying to disguise the trembling in his voice with a quiet cough.

“Ah, man…Gerard, not tonight. You’re just freaking out. You’re having one of your anxiety attacks again.”

“No I’m not,” Gerard said, actually sobbing into the phone.

“Yes, you are. If I brought you over now, you’d just freak out the whole time. It wouldn’t be any fun for either of us.”

“Nick, please!” Gerard cried. “We can have fun without sleeping together—what if we just watched a movie, or—or just talked? Please, Nick? I can’t be alone right now…”

“I’m sorry, Babe. It’s just not happening. Try to get some sleep.”

Nick hung up and Gerard let the phone clatter onto the kitchen floor. He hated this…this loving and not loving bullshit. Nick had told him that he fell in love with him at first sight, then they’d slept together and his opinion changed.

None of his lovers actually _loved_ him the way he wanted them to… They all just bedded him and then disappeared into the night, leaving him to clean up the mess. Instead of beautiful, they made him feel ugly. Instead of loved, they made him feel cheap.

Sometimes he tried to prepare himself to cut his ties to these men, but he could never go through with it. The night would be too cold, or his emotions would be too dark. He needed someone there to pull him out of it. Someone big…someone strong and warm and gentle.

Someone he didn’t deserve.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten_

During the summer, his parents’ custody arrangement said that he had to live with his father the first five weeks of his break from school. He used to love spending the time with his dad—it was his favorite part of the summer!—now he was just nervous about it.

Everything had changed since Ronnie had come and gone. Everything…

At home with his mother, he was forced to live in the room where he’d been tortured. His mother had bought him new bed sheets and blankets, but the mattress was the same. The bed was the same. She made him change his own sheets when it was time for them to go in the wash, and she made him look at the bloodstains on his mattress.

There weren’t big patches of blood, but Frank still saw them. Big, reddish-brown blotches. Some were the size of large coins, others were just small dots.

Looking at them made him sick, but his mother didn’t buy him a mattress cover to hide them.

It was like she wanted him to see it. 

She didn’t realize it, but, slowly, she was killing him. Every time he lie in bed, he was reminded. He tried to think of Gerard, but those thoughts began to bring him more pain than pleasure and he couldn’t keep up.

At least at his father’s house there weren’t scars and stains in the bed sheets. There were just awkward glances and long silences.

He wished his dad loved him again…

The only hope Frank had was that over this five week period, his dad would accept him again. He wanted the joking back, and the hugs, and all of that old attention. 

Every day Frank regretted telling about what Ronnie had done. 

Every day.

“Did you pack everything you need?” His dad asked as Frank buckled himself into the front seat of the car.

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled. “I got everything.”

“Okay…but remember—”

“ _I know,_ ” Frank growled. “If I forget something, it’ll be a while before I can come get it. I know.”

“Don’t get an attitude,” his father said firmly.

Frank sank down into the seat of the car and stared out the window. His life had fallen to piece, and all he wanted was sympathy—but that was something that no one was giving. Not even Gerard.

Gerard just thought he was a freak. 

As his father drove him across town to his temporary home, Frank wished he could get up the courage to die. To just…jump out of the car while it was moving. Just jump off the roof of the school…or off the top of the church.

But he wasn’t that brave, so he was made to suffer. 

“What do you want for dinner?” His father asked as they pulled into the driveway of the house.

Frank stared out the window at Gerard’s house. The car was missing from the driveway, and he assumed Gerard and his family were out.

Not that his dad would’ve let him go visit Gerard anyway if they’d been home.

“Whatever you want,” Frank said.

“You don’t want anything in particular?” His dad kept pushing it, and it made Frank more upset. People always expected things from him now, and it just made it harder for him to live up their standards.

His own family was making him feel like a failure, and he really wished he’d just let things go on with Ronnie. His mom would still talk to him, his dad would still look at him, and maybe Gerard would want to be friends…

No, Gerard would never want to be friends. Frank was a freak—with or without Ronnie.

Frank felt sick to his stomach, and he wanted nothing to do with dinner or anything else. But if he refused to eat, his father would scold him and tell him he was tired of feeling like Frank didn’t want to see him.

Why didn’t his dad see that it was the other way around? It was his dad that didn’t want to see him anymore…

“Why are you so upset?” His dad asked as Frank sat down to a plain salad for dinner.

“I’m not,” Frank mumbled, slowly eating watery lettuce with no nutritional value.

“Frank…”

“Dad, I’m fine,” Frank said, looking up from his salad.

“You want to go over to the neighbor’s house,” his father said accusingly. Frank scowled at him, but not with anger—it was hurt.

“No I don’t,” Frank muttered, staring at his salad. He was going to be so hungry later…

“Stop with that attitude, Frank.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Frank cried, dropping his fork onto the table. “I haven’t even done anything!” 

“Why are you in such a bad mood? That’s all I’m asking,” his dad said, setting down his fork and staring Frank down.

It made him feel guilty—it just made him feel sick. 

As angry as it made him to have his father always accusing him of being upset, it hurt more than anything. It hurt to have his dad so unhappy with him. It hurt worse than anything Ronnie could have ever done.

“I’m not in a bad mood,” Frank said, staring down at his plate. It was like everyone was able to forget what happened except for him. He couldn’t take it. It was like a secret he and Gerard shared…

He wondered how Gerard’s parents treated him when he wasn’t being loud and mean. Did his mom tell him he was acting spoiled when he asked her to speak softer or look less angry? Did his dad yell at him and make him feel unwelcome in the home?

Probably…

It was no wonder Gerard went out with all of those other guys. He had to do something to avoid being brokenhearted at the end of the day. If the thought didn’t scare him into convulsions, Frank would probably be out doing the same…

“You look like you’re going to be sick,” his father said. There was no concern in his voice. 

Frank got up from the table and spent the next half hour throwing up because images of himself and Gerard, himself and Ronnie, and Gerard with other men kept spinning through his mind. He didn’t want to think about Gerard being with anyone else…

He wanted Gerard to be with him. It didn’t matter if Gerard was older, or that Gerard didn’t like him—or that he’d accidentally told Gerard multiple times that he wasn’t gay. 

He was, and he wanted Gerard. It didn’t matter if Ronnie made him that way—he wanted Gerard to take care of it, because Gerard was the only one who knew how.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank snuck over to Gerard’s house while his father was at work the next day. He knocked on the door multiple times, but no one answered. Frank knew Gerard was off for summer break, too, and he wanted to see him. He wasn’t going to leave until he did.

Looking over his shoulder at the street, in case one of Gerard’s parents would return from work early, Frank stepped off the porch and crept around the side of the house to one of the basement windows. He crouched beside the window and knocked on it softly. The window was covered by a curtain, but after knocking a second time, the curtain moved and a very displeased looking Gerard appeared on the other side of the glass.

“What?” Gerard called, muffled by the windowpane. 

“I wanted to see you,” Frank said.

“Why!?” Gerard asked, looking hopelessly clueless. 

“I want to see you,” Frank repeated eagerly. He knew Gerard wouldn’t shut him out.

Through the spotty glass, Frank saw Gerard’s face twist with discomfort and confliction. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, going towards the stairwell up to the first floor. Frank quickly ran back to the porch and reached it just as Gerard opened the door. “Why are you here at nine in the morning? It’s the first day of break, you know? Sleep in.”

Gerard was still in his pajamas and looked exhausted.

“I don’t sleep,” Frank said. “I mean, not a lot.” 

He felt himself beginning to blush and couldn’t control it. It’d been weeks since he’d last seen Gerard, and it made him happy just to be in his presence. Gerard was like magic. 

“You’re weird…come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m tired—it’s too bright up here.”

Gerard grumbled as he led Frank down the basement steps, and as soon as he was in the room he crawled back into bed. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired, man,” Gerard mumbled. “Mikey’s even asleep still, and he’s about as hyper as a two-year-old on crack…”

“I wanted to see you,” Frank said, sitting down in the chair at Gerard’s desk.

“Why?” Gerard said, his eyes closed and his face buried in the blankets. Frank smiled at him. It was different seeing Gerard this way. It felt casual. There was no deeper reason to be there except to be in Gerard’s company, and it was refreshing. 

“I don’t know…we’re friends,” Frank said. He hoped Gerard didn’t reject him. 

It was like all of his happiness could disappear in an instant.

“Yeah—and friends don’t wake each other up at nine in the morning on the first day of break.”

“I haven’t seen you in forever, though,” Frank pressed. “I didn’t want to wait until noon…”

“Try three next time. That’s when I get up…three.” Gerard sounded like he could fall asleep at any second, but Frank didn’t want to leave. He would be glad to sit at Gerard’s side and watch over him while he slept. 

He didn’t know how Gerard coped with the things he’d been through, but nightmares was something Frank was familiar with. He was prepared to stay at Gerard’s side and fight off the nightmares if they came…

“What do you want?” Gerard asked after a long period of silence. “Don’t come over and then just sit there all quiet—what do you want to ask me?”

Frank stared at him for a moment and then shrugged, even though Gerard had his eye closed and couldn’t see the gesture.

“I just like to visit you.”

“Go visit Mikey. Once he’s up, he’s up—tell him you want to watch TV. He’ll be out of bed in a minute.”

“Gerard,” Frank said, mustering up the smallest bit of courage, “I just want to see you.”

One of Gerard’s eyes pulled open and he stared at him quietly, sleepily.

“Frank…you’re _weird._ ”

“I…I just like you, that’s all.” Frank immediately stared at his hands in his lap and bit his lip. He didn’t know what he expected to have happen. He just wanted to see Gerard…and be with him every day.

It was all he wanted in the entire world. He didn’t care if his parents hated him—he didn’t care if his _dad_ started raping him. If he had Gerard, he would be happy…

“You sure you’re not gay?” Gerard asked groggily, forcing out a small laugh as he stretched and rolled onto his stomach. He pooled the blankets around himself even more and it was just two eyes peering out at Frank from a mound of darkness.

“No,” Frank mumbled. He knew Gerard was going to reject him, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was sick of hiding everything he felt. 

“Wait…what?” Gerard asked, narrowing his eyes and then closing them completely. “You’re weird…”

“I know,” Frank said softly, looking up and trying to meet Gerard’s gaze. 

Gerard kept his eyes closed and, for a long time, it seemed like he’d gone to sleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

The farthest Gerard could ever escape was bed sheets. After the attacks, after revealing it, during his stay in Juvie… Blankets were like some sort of impenetrable barrier that bad feelings couldn’t get through.

But now, in his own home, in his own spare time, feelings were coming through every microscopic gap in the blanket’s threads. 

What was this kid trying to do? He was always coming over, and whenever he did all he wanted was a shoulder to cry on…

Did he really have that little support at home?

Now the kid was telling him that he _liked_ him and didn’t even try to deny it when Gerard called him gay.

But he had before…

Had that suddenly changed?

No, Gerard refused to believe that. The kid was like thirteen at most…he’d been hurt by that guy, and now he was just confused. He didn’t know what to think about love anymore. Hell, he probably thought he _had_ to be gay because of what that guy had done to him.

But Gerard refused to say anything to him about it. He kept his eyes shut and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.

This _little kid_ did _not_ have a crush on him. He wasn’t going to allow it.

He was practically the same age as _Mikey!_ There was no way in hell Gerard was going to get involved with someone his brother’s age…

Shoulder to cry on, fine. Whatever. The kid needed support. But there was no way he could entertain this kid’s weird ideas. He couldn’t…it wasn’t that he was cold.

It didn’t make him cold, did it? He just couldn’t be _that_ kind of support.

Relationships helped ease that pain though…and Gerard knew that better than anyone.

He wasn’t with all those men because he wanted used and thrown away. He wanted someone near. 

Deep down, he just wanted a man around who could protect him—even though those men were exactly the kind of threat everyone wanted to protect him from.

He didn’t want to see Frank doing what he was though…he knew it was wrong. Just like he knew, really deep down, that it hurt more than it helped.

( ) ( ) ( )

“What is it you want from me?” Gerard asked, opening his eyes. Frank jumped slightly, startled, and knocked over an empty glass on Gerard’s desk.

“Just to see you,” Frank answered, looking Gerard in the eye and trying to convey that he was being honest. Though he wanted more, he knew he could never take more than just Gerard’s time. He would surely die if Gerard ever tried to touch him…

“Really?” Gerard asked cynically.

“I…I like you,” Frank mumbled, feeling ashamed and guilty. Gerard didn’t want a stupid, filthy kid pining after him. Gerard was busy—Gerard had his own life.

“In what _way,_ ” Gerard pushed, staring at Frank.

“Like…like Plato and Victoria,” Frank mumbled. He hoped, deep down, that Gerard wouldn’t catch the reference. Most people wouldn’t…but, of course, Gerard was different. That was why Frank loved him.

“And the what?” Gerard asked, sitting up, his blankets still wrapped around him. “We all have a big Jellicle Cat orgy?”

“No,” Frank mumbled, feeling small under Gerard’s gaze. “I just…Gerard, I really like you. You’re really cool, and you get me.” Frank looked up, desperate for Gerard to at least return some of his affection. He didn’t want to ruin Gerard’s day every time they saw each other.

He wanted Gerard to like him, too.

“Frank, you’re just a kid. If I touched you, I wouldn’t be going back to Juvie—I’d be prison.”

“I know,” Frank said quietly. His heart tried to leap, but he kept in contained. He was hopeful that Gerard was saying he couldn’t be with him because he was young, but he knew that was just a reasonable excuse.

“What do you want me to do?” Gerard asked calmly. “Do you need me to support you? Do you…want me to tell your parents to quit making you hate yourself—”

“I don’t hate myself,” Frank said with little conviction.

“Kid, it’s all over you. The way you look, the way you talk—the way you’re always sneaking over here.”

“You’re the only one who understands me, Gerard!” Frank cried, looking at him desperately. “They expect me to just be over it, and I’m not…you know I’m not.” He refused to break, but he was willing to show his weakness. Gerard was the only one allowed to see it. “I don’t know what to do… You know, though. You know what I have to do.”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything. That’s the point—you don’t _have_ to let it drive you crazy. It happened, it’s done, move on.”

Frank bit into his lip and felt his chest begin to quiver. 

It was like everyone else. The pain was so sharp. It was like a literal gunshot to the chest. 

He needed to just get over it? Just get over it?

How?

“Don’t cry,” Gerard said quietly, letting the blankets fall from his shoulders. “Don’t…come on. I didn’t mean it like that—I didn’t mean to forget right now. I’m just saying, you’ve gotta help yourself. I can’t do it for you.”

Frank couldn’t say anything. He was struck from the pain and he just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

“I wish I’d never told anyone,” Frank said softly.

“Why? So he could make you bleed to death the next time?”

“I just wanted to see you,” Frank said, brokenhearted. 

Gerard leaned back on his bed and sighed deeply. 

“Come here,” Gerard said firmly. 

Frank looked up, nervous and untrusting.

“Just…just come here,” Gerard repeated, his face softening but also becoming void of emotion.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard felt self-loathing overcome him the moment he saw that look of complete and utter devastation cross the boy’s face. He was seeking affection—it was all he wanted in the world.

Gerard knew how it felt. Mother’s afraid to touch, father’s repulsed at the thought… Kids at school catching word and spreading it around.

Yeah…he understood.

“Come on,” Gerard repeated. 

Finally, Frank moved from the chair at the desk and took a step closer to the bed. 

It was just affection. All he wanted was positive affection, and Gerard had a duty to offer it. He was the one who’d forced Frank to tell. It was his job to see him through to recovery.

When Frank reached the edge of the bed, he looked terrified and stricken. He was shaking and there were tears in his eyes threatening to spill at any second. 

He was afraid Gerard was going to hit him. Gerard read it through his posture and that broken-spirited look in his eyes. Frank came to him excepting a painful blow…

That hurt…to be assumed capable of cruelty like that. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, looking down and grabbing both of Frank’s hands in his own. Frank flinched at the touch. Gerard doubted anyone touched him now except bullies. Everyone was afraid that he was tainted, but their aversions just made his own feelings of being filthy that much more overwhelming. 

Gerard looked down at Frank’s hands silently, not really sure what he was doing. He wanted to show him support, and he wanted to soothe him…but he was _not_ going to cross any lines.

Frank moved to pull his hands away and Gerard grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him down. When Frank opened his mouth to cry out, Gerard forced a kiss onto his cheek. 

The kid went silent instantly. He stopped breathing and just let the kiss happen. 

Slowly, Gerard pulled back and released his hold of Frank’s wrists. 

Frank stared at him, wide-eyed and hopeful. Gerard felt guilt fall into his stomach, but he didn’t know what else he could do.

Frank was just going to keep coming back to him, and if he kept pushing him away he was going to think that was how men were supposed to treat people. All he wanted was _affection._ Just a little bit of attention…

Gerard could spare that much, right?

He wasn’t going to cross the line—he wasn’t going to sleep with the kid. He was just a _kid!_

“Just be calm,” Gerard said, looking at Frank softly.

It took him by complete surprise when that look of hope on Frank’s face turned to some kind of determination. He barely had a moment to react before Frank pushed their mouths into an actual kiss.

Gerard just froze. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to fight back tears that rushed him.

It wasn’t the bad memories, it was the terror. 

He didn’t _want_ this! He was just trying to make the kid stop crying—he didn’t mean for anything else to happen. 

Gerard couldn’t bring himself to pull back. He sat still and let Frank kiss him as long as he wanted. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours. It was a moment of pain frozen in time—like the first time his old friend had attacked him in that alley. 

He’d been pressed against the wall and pinned. He’d been told to be still—he’d had his jeans pulled down, and he’d been just as helpless then as he was now.

He was captive to this _child…_

“Gerard?”

Gerard’s eyes were open, but suddenly he remembered to see. He looked at Frank and then down at his blankets. He pulled them around his shoulders again.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked.

Gerard nodded and started chewing on his lip anxiously. 

It was at that moment that Gerard realized the state he was truly in. It didn’t matter if it was a man or a teenager or a child…Gerard’s will crumbled to anyone. 

For a moment, he felt vulnerable, and then he just felt mad. It wasn’t fair that everyone felt they could just grab him and touch him. A kiss on the cheek didn’t mean a free kiss on the mouth. 

Cheeks were for friends—lips for lovers. He didn’t want that from Frank. He was a child!

“Gerard, I…I really like you,” Frank said. He sounded so nervous. It just wasn’t fair.

What was Gerard supposed to say? He didn’t like him that way…he was a kid. He couldn’t.

Didn’t Frank understand that?


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

Gerard tried and tried to get Nick back on the phone, but he never answered the calls. He saw the number calling, but never picked up. It broke Gerard’s heart.

At first—for the first couple of weeks—he told himself Nick wasn’t answering because he’d taken a different shift at work and wasn’t home. Then he tried to convince himself that it was because he was taking classes at the college…

He tried to keep himself from realizing the truth, but eventually there was no avoiding it.

Nick was ignoring him—Nick didn’t want to see him anymore.

Gerard hadn’t known what he was expecting to come from the relationship—he’d always known that it was soon going to end—but he hadn’t even prepared himself in any way for it to actually happen.

“Gerard, get up!” His mother shouted from upstairs. “I’m going to the store—you need some new clothes. Let’s go!”

“No!” Gerard cried, getting about of bed despite himself. He knew he would lose the fight, but he always tried.

“Now!” His mother screamed. Her patience was already worn thin and Gerard knew their shopping trip was only going to go downhill from here.

Gerard shrugged off his blankets and stepped out of bed. He was already dressed in yesterday’s clothing and wasn’t going to change. He just forced on his Converse and started up the basement stairs. His mother was at the top staring down at him.

“Let’s go,” she said firmly. 

Gerard kept his head down and followed her out of the house.

( ) ( ) ( )

Though his mother wanted him to have new clothes so he could look “presentable,” they didn’t have enough money for actually brand new clothing. They went to thrift stores for clothing, and Gerard was okay with that. The clothing wasn’t torn to bits or anything, and no one really knew. 

It was a really cool place to find band t-shirts too. Mikey really like those, so Gerard always kept an eye out for them if Mikey couldn’t come along on the trip.

“Go pick out something decent,” his mother said when they walked through the dingy doors of the Goodwill. “Maybe something with a little _color_ for once?”

“Not a chance,” Gerard said, walking over to the aisles of clothes and looking through the long-sleeved shirts absently. Most of them were nasty sweaters he didn’t want, a lot were sports themed, but every now and then he’d find something worth wearing. 

He found a black and white striped shirt that looked pretty cool. The stripes were slightly angled and didn’t always match up to make a complete circle around the body. After checking it over thoroughly, Gerard found no noticeable food stains, blood stains, or sweat stains, so he held onto it and carried on.

Shopping was the time his mother had the most fun, but it really just made Gerard feel self-conscious. 

He really did _try_ to lose weight, but…

But in the end he was always shopping in the Large, X-Large sections. He felt so humiliated when he’d get a large shirt that still didn’t fit right. 

At one point, Gerard had even tried to starve off the weight, but it didn’t work. He got too hungry and indulged himself inappropriately. He was a fucking fat ass, and that was why his best friend had said it was okay to fuck him.

So every time Gerard stared at the stupid metal racks over-flowing with cheap, stained clothes, Gerard thought of Rich. And he thought of Rich grabbing him. Thought of Rich hitting him. Thought of Rich raping him.

Raping him because he was fat, and you didn’t have to get consent from fat people. They weren’t good enough…

Gerard groaned softly and grabbed a couple more shirts from the rack before he needed to take a break. He carried his three shirts with him as he hurried over to the bookshelves and started skimming the titles. There weren’t any comic books though, and that was depressing. 

“Gerard, I said _clothes._ ” His mother had appeared beside him and rolled her eyes when she saw that all he’d picked up were either black or striped black and white. “And _color._ ”

She didn’t see how much pain he was in when he returned to the aisles of clothing. He went to the t-shirts this time, but was haunted by the sizes listed on the rack.

Yes, deep down he knew that his weight had nothing to do with it. Rich raped him because he wanted power over him, because he was jealous that he was good at art and teachers liked him. Rich was mad he didn’t get the leading role in the school play like he wanted…

But it was easier to believe what Rich had said. 

“It’s not you, Gerard—it’s your fucking disgusting weight. Such a fat ass. What is this coat? A two-XL?”

Gerard started flipping through the shirts on the rack rapidly, making the hangers screech in hopes of blocking the voices out.

It was so difficult, though. Buying large clothes was an excuse to stay fat. Stay fat. Fat. Fat. Obese. Overweight. _Disgusting._ Repulsive.

It was no wonder Nick didn’t return the phone calls!

Gerard turned away from the rack of clothes and closed his eyes tightly.

Why did this have to happen every time? _Every_ time? Gerard felt like he was going to _cry._ Cry right in the middle of the fucking Goodwill!

It was unbearable…

His mother, oblivious to his agony, appeared at his side again and started flipping through the shirts behind him. She saw that he was facing the rack of jeans and clicked her tongue at him.

“You have enough pants—those aren’t even your size; those are too small,” she said. 

She had no idea…

“Can you…go see if they have a copy of _Cats?_ ” Gerard asked, just wanting her away from him so he could go back to shopping and trying not to have a nervous breakdown. 

“ _Cats?_ ”

“The musical, Mom?” Gerard asked, turning back to the rack and staring at the shirts made for ugly, stupid fat people…

“Okay… Why?”

“Frank… Frank’s whoever—whatever he was… Frank’s tape got broken and he asked me to look out for a new one for him. That’s all,” Gerard said. Frank had said nothing about wanting a replacement tape, but it served as a good excuse to get his mother to leave.

“Oh… Okay. I can do that. Pick out some more shirts.” His mother walked away and Gerard returned to flipping through the racks. He tried to keep his mind empty as he flipped through the different shirts, selecting whatever one “jumped out” and “caught his eye.”

He felt like he was going to be sick…

He was going to be sick.

( ) ( ) ( )

Just as Frank was setting his dinner plate in the sink, there was a soft knock on the front door. For a moment he just stood there, hand still on the dish, listening. 

Then his heart leapt because the only people that _ever_ visited his father were Gerard and his family.

Frank let go of the plate and hurried to the door, beating his father there by less than a second.

“What? Are you expecting someone?” His father asked curiously, slightly humored.

Frank pulled open the door and had to keep himself from bouncing up on his heels when he saw Gerard. He’d be so _terrified_ that Gerard wasn’t going to come around anymore.

After he’d kissed him, Gerard just seemed to… Well, _break._ He hardly spoke a word afterwards and just stared at his blankets, chewing his lip until Frank left.

It successfully made Frank sorry he’d done it. He just wanted Gerard to _know._ It was more than just a crush, there were real feelings involved and real passion, too. He loved him, and the kiss was meant to show it. 

But the kiss had just frightened him. 

“Oh…Gerard.” Frank’s father may have been last to the door, but he was the first to speak.

“Hi,” Frank said quickly, before Gerard could answer. Gerard stared at him, looking anxious and embarrassed. 

“Um…” Gerard tried to speak, but looked like he lost the will. He was so nervous he was practically shaking. 

“What’s up?” Frank’s father asked. His tone was very accusing, like he expected that Gerard had been sent over to apologize for stealing from their house or something.

“I…Um, fuck…”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, sorry. Um, we went to the store today and I found a movie for Frank. Somethin’ he’d like,” Gerard said, pretending he could still act tough. Frank didn’t understand why Gerard was being so nervous. Had the kiss really upset him that much?

“A tape?” His father asked.

Frank looked up at his father darkly, trying to warn him against using such a cruel tone on Gerard. He really couldn’t understand why everyone thought he was such a terrible person. So what if he got mixed up in drugs? He was _nice!_ He was a victim too… 

“Yeah… I was wondering if maybe we could watch it or something,” Gerard said, looking over his shoulder at his own house next door.

“Sure,” Frank’s father said, looking down at his son who was still glaring at him. “Come in—Frank, get that look off your face.” The latter half of his statement was spoken in a harsh whisper that only Frank had caught.

He knew it wasn’t good for his relationship with his father to stay angry, but he wasn’t about to let the man bully Gerard. 

But it was exciting to have Gerard over for a change. Maybe Frank would get to show him his room after the movie, or they could just hang out downstairs if the thought of being alone with him made Gerard uncomfortable. He still seemed shaken up about the kiss, and Frank didn’t want to make him feel pressured. 

He _loved_ Gerard… He wanted Gerard to feel safe around him, too.

“What tape did you bring me?” Frank asked, looking at the bag in Gerard’s hands as he stepped into the house.

“Oh… It’s just—Well, don’t get excited, but it’s just _Cats._ ” Gerard looked at the floor modestly as he said it, and Frank literally had to keep himself from leaping onto the older boy. 

He’d really gotten him _Cats?_ Gerard cared about him that much? 

It was moving, and touching and Frank felt honored. It felt like Gerard really _did_ care about him, and not just because he felt obligated. 

“Thanks!” Frank shouted, too happy to pretend he didn’t care. If it weren’t for his father’s watching gaze, Frank would’ve hugged the other boy. 

Gerard was just so great!

( ) ( ) ( )

“Okay,” Frank’s father said as soon as the Jellicle cats all sat in their chorus and began to chant about their names. “You boys…you can watch this. I’m gonna go upstairs for a little bit and maybe read the paper.”

Frank watched as his father stood up from the couch and made his way upstairs, newspaper in hand. Gerard watched him also. 

Once he was out of sight, they both looked at each other and laughed.

“I didn’t expect him to stay for long,” Gerard said with a soft laugh.

“Me either,” Frank said. Gerard’s laugh made him smile. It was good to be with him—and it was great to be reunited with _Cats._

Gerard sighed and moved to lay on his stomach on the floor, propped up by his elbows. 

“I _hate_ this song,” Gerard groaned when they began to sing about the gumbie cat Jennyanydots. “What’s your favorite?”

“I…I guess I like Mr. Mistoffelees’ song. I mean, _everybody_ likes _Memory,_ but I like the happy songs.”

Gerard hummed positively and let his eyes roll back towards the screen.

“I like Rum Tum Tugger,” Gerard said. “He _does_ remind me of myself—I mean, he will do as he do do, and so do I.”

Frank couldn’t help but giggle any more than he could stop the blush on his cheeks when Tugger came onto stage.

“Is this your favorite song then?” Frank asked as the black, lion-like cat danced around the stage.

“Hell no,” Gerard said, sitting back up and crossing his legs. “I hate the ending—those stupid screaming cat girls. They ruin the whole thing.”

“I think they’re funny,” Frank argued, looking up at Gerard to check his reaction. Gerard just shrugged.

“Hush—Grizabella is on. I fuckin’ _love_ Elaine Paige.”

Frank’s blush only got worse as Gerard began to sing along with the Glamour Cat song—his voice breaking a little bit every now and then as he tried to whisper-sing.

“Are cats your favorite?” Gerard asked suddenly. “Or do you just like the movie?”

“Cats are cool,” Frank said. He was almost nervous—whenever it came to questions with black or white answers, Frank was always afraid he’d speak wrong and it would dash his chances at winning Gerard over. If he said he liked cats, what if Gerard was more of a dog person? Frank really did prefer dogs though…but then Gerard would certainly prefer cats, wouldn’t he? “I like dogs a lot more though. But mostly the little dogs. They’re cute.”

“Dogs are cool,” Gerard mumbled, staring at the St. James’s Cat as he walked around with his big silver spoon. “Blegh, Mungojeerie and Rumpleteazer. I really don’t like this play that much,” Gerard said. “I like the costumes and the concept, but…nah, it’s not my thing.”

“I like it,” Frank said softly.

“I know—I didn’t say you _couldn’t._ ” Gerard was silent for a moment, and then his lip twisted into a weird, puzzled expression. “I have to say—of all the cats, if I were a cat, I would fuck Munkustrap.”

“O-okay,” Frank stammered, taken aback. He’d never thought of his film that way before, and he really didn’t want to begin.

“I mean—the dancer guy. He’s got less paint on his face, and it looks like he has good bone structure.” Gerard paused, but not long enough for Frank to be able to shake his stupor. “I would fuck that guy—if he wore that costume to bed.”

“I…I never thought of it that way before,” Frank said.

“Well, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t. I’m a pervert, so I do.”

“You’re not a pervert,” Frank mumbled. “You’re cool.”

“And you always told me that Rum Tum Tugger is cool, but he’s actually just a sex-crazed, horny tom cat.”

“I just…I just like the cats…” Frank began to feel nauseous. Ronnie was in the back of his mind, and he remembered things that he’d been told. That he was young, and he would learn to want to be touched…

He wished Ronnie had been wrong about that…

He really did.

“That good though—it’s actually normal to _not_ want to fuck people-cats in spandex unitards…” Gerard moaned softly for no reason and laid back on his stomach, letting his forehead press against the floor. “They look like naked people with weird skin—why don’t they have fur to cover their ass?”

“You can’t _see_ anything,” Frank argued. 

“I know,” Gerard mumbled, looking back up at the screen. “Cassandra has the best voice for speaking…It’s so deep. She sounds sophisticated—it’s better than those squeaky voices.”

“Okay,” Frank said, trying to keep up with Gerard’s shifting focus. It was actually really difficult. “I wish there was an all-black cat.”

“Me too, actually,” Gerard said. “I wonder why there’s not—probably so Victoria stands out as the only solid-colored cat.”

“It’s…kind of boring when they just dance, I guess,” Frank said. The cats had been dancing with little interaction for quite a while, and it really took someone interested in choreography to stay focused.

Or someone desperate to ignore the real world.

Frank used to be so captivated by the dance scenes. They were as easy to ignore as they were to get caught up in watching.

“I want to dance like that,” Gerard said. “But I’m too fat for that.” He tried to laugh, but just sounded sad.

“I don’t think you’re fat…”

“Hush—Grizabella is back on.”

“Why are they so mean to her? I’ve never understood…”

“Because she’s old and she left them.”

“Oh…”

“Hush…I like it when she’s on. She’s my favorite.”

Frank sat still and watched as Grizabella struggled to dance and please the other cats, but couldn’t. It had always been one of his favorite scenes. Her emotions were so real…and he’d always related to them so well when he’d lived under Ronnie.

 _Memory_ brought back all of those memories and Frank couldn’t bear to think about it. He moved closer to Gerard who was captivated by the screen. He came so close that their sides were touching, and that was just enough to make him feel safe. 

_…the time I knew what happiness was…_ The words hurt. The entire song hurt and Frank wanted it to be over soon. 

Ronnie hadn’t taken his favorite film away from him by stepping on it—he’d ruined it just by the memories. For the rest of his life, Frank knew he would always be reminded of Ronnie when he saw the film. _Always…_

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked. He sat back up and looked down at Frank with genuine concern.

“I’m fine…”

“No you’re not—you’re thinking about him.”

“I know,” Frank said, taking a chance and resting his head against Gerard’s side. He didn’t expect Gerard to push him away, but he was almost certain that he was going to end up chasing his only friend away.

Jemima began singing _Moonlight_ and Frank was almost in tears. He remembered the way he’d tried to cling to those lyrics after Ronnie had beaten him. It spoke about hope, but it always left Frank feeling more hopeless than ever.

“Just…try not to, okay?” Gerard said, putting his arms around Frank gently. “Look—the theater cat is on—his name’s Asparagus. Isn’t that funny? Who names a cat Asparagus?”

Frank didn’t say anything—he just focused on the warmth of Gerard’s arms and let his presence chase away the flesh memories of Ronnie.

“Which cat would you be if you could be in the play?” Gerard asked, hugging Frank tighter.

“Mr. Mistoffelees,” Frank mumbled. “He’s my favorite.”

“I’d have to be Tugger, but I’d rather be Alonzo—He’s flirty, but he’s not so obnoxious about it. And, I mean, he’s got those spots by his mouth. I think he’s cool.”

“He doesn’t get enough time on stage,” Frank said softly.

“He gets enough,” Gerard said. “Or, you know, I wouldn’t mind being the Rumpus Cat. That superhero one? How cool would it be to be a superhero cat?”

“Almost as cool as being a magical cat like Mistoffelees?” Frank said, looking up at Gerard smiling softly.

“Ew—you can see Skimbleshank’s dick!”

“Why are you _looking?_ ” Frank asked, rolling his eyes because Gerard sounded more humored than anything.

“I always look—they’re in spandex. They’re asking for it—Oh, no! It’s Macavity!” Gerard laughed and then squeezed Frank even tighter—like he was a pillow. “That’s a fuckin’ scary cat.”

“I like their leg warmers,” Frank commented. He loved that he could be random with Gerard. It was rare that he could find anyone to talk to, let alone someone who thought the same way he did.

“Me too…I can make you some.”

“I…” Frank laughed and felt himself begin blushing. “I-I’d have nowhere to wear them. Thanks though.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, watching the movie intently. “Your loss…this song’s probably my favorite. Macavity, Macavity—there’s no one like Macavity…”

“You like the song, but he scares you?”

“Yeah—Macavity’s fuckin’ terrifying! He makes thunder happen. That’s pretty scary.”

“You’re funny,” Frank said, blushing. It felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster of self-consciousness, elation, horror, and happiness. 

“Oh, no—Macavity got Munkustrap—get him Mistoffelees!”

“I think that’s Alonzo…”

“Whoever—they’re black and white and they’re a cat, they’re all the same. Your favorite part’s coming.”

Frank looked at the screen and smiled. Gerard was still holding him, and the happiest song was going to start—it was the best feeling ever. Mistoffelees was doing magic, Tugger was singing and dancing in that hot way he did…and Gerard’s body was right there behind him. There was no way his mind could possibly shift to something bad.

Frank watched, captivated. It was like the very essence of joy. 

And then Jemima was singing _Daylight_ and Frank felt ill again. Whenever he wasn’t happy, he felt like he was about to fall into pieces. He didn’t want to let Gerard see it though—and not just because he was afraid Gerard would say “Hush, Grizabella’s back on.” He just didn’t want to look that weak.

Gerard seemed to sense it, though. When Grizabella sang the remains of _Memory,_ Gerard began holding him tighter. 

Frank could handle the bad memories if he could be loved like this…

No one else would look at him let alone _hold_ him, and even though he was getting older, it would’ve been nice if his mother would have held him just a little.

Just a little…Just like this.

( ) ( ) ( )

When the film was over, Frank stayed perfectly still in Gerard’s arms, almost as if he expected Gerard to forget he was there. But Gerard couldn’t do that.

Frank’s presence was like a burning hot coal in the room—if he didn’t keep a close watch on him, he’d burn the entire place down.

The VCR began rewinding the tape automatically, but Frank’s father had yet to come back down from upstairs.

“Frank, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Gerard mumbled, hoping Frank’s father didn’t just pop up from behind the couch and overhear.

“What?” Frank asked softly.

“You can’t…you can’t do this to me,” Gerard said quietly. It wasn’t that he wanted Frank to feel like it was his fault for anything, because it really wasn’t. If it weren’t for that creep who’d touched him, none of this would be happening. But he just needed Frank to know…

Know he could never, ever expect to gain anything from their friendship. 

“Do…what?” Frank asked, immediately pulling away and looking at Gerard in absolute agony. Gerard felt like he’d shot him, or stabbed him…or fucking ripped his soul out—how did he manage to look like that!?

“Just…the kiss,” Gerard said quietly. He couldn’t stand up to him. He couldn’t even say no to a child. 

“It was an _accident,_ ” Frank whispered.

“I know,” Gerard said, looking at the floor. “But I… You can’t kiss me.”

“You kissed me,” Frank mumbled, almost sounding accusing.

“On the _cheek,_ ” Gerard argued. He felt just as low now as he had when Rich had justified his assault. He’d tried to tell Rich he hadn’t wanted it, and Rich had said…

“But… I thought… I’m sorry,” Frank said, looking at Gerard pitifully.

It wasn’t the answer Gerard was expecting and it left him momentarily stunned.

He wasn’t supposed to say he was sorry, he was supposed to pass the blame. He was supposed to say, “you came to me first. If you’d left me alone, I wouldn’t have even known the fuck you were.”

“I… I’m not good for you,” Gerard mumbled. “I can’t help you. I just make it worse.”

“No you don’t,” Frank muttered, sounding angry. “Why do you want to get rid of me?”

“I don’t,” Gerard whispered.

“I didn’t mean to kiss you,” Frank mumbled. “I just…I don’t know.” Frank returned to looking ashamed, but Gerard couldn’t tell if it was honest or a ploy to get him to feel bad.

“You just… can’t do that to me. I’m not good.”

“Yes you are,” Frank said. 

“No, I’m not.”

“Gerard, he was just—”

“No,” Gerard snapped. He was _not_ going to allow the child to comfort him. He didn’t need Frank telling him that Rich was the bad guy. He didn’t want to have a kid tell him he was going to be okay, because what the fuck did kids know? 

“Gerard… You’re not bad. You’re just like me. I’m not bad…”

“I’m _nothing_ like you,” Gerard said quietly. “It’s not _that._ It’s the drugs and the juvie—don’t you know anything about me yet?”

“I don’t care that you were in juvie,” Frank snapped. “I love you!”

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank’s father had been coming down the stairs when he’d heard it. The movie was rewinding in the VCR and the boys were talking, but it wasn’t until he was about to step down into view that he realized what his son and the neighbor kid were saying to each other.

Frank was saying something about how Gerard was just like him, and that he wasn’t a bad kid. 

At that point, he’d been tempted to go back upstairs and let them finish talking—not really wanting to have his son scream at him about overhearing some stupid “personal” conversation—but then he froze. 

Gerard had muttered something and Frank immediately got pissed off. He said something about Juvie and then proclaimed his love…

His love for _Gerard._

For a moment, he’d been frozen on the steps. He didn’t know what to think… What to do…

Was Frank being serious, or was this just some sort of awkward brotherly-love argument? It had to be the latter… Frank didn’t know what love was, he was just thirteen. Obviously he was just looking up to the drugged out neighbor kid as a role model—and a really shitty one at that.

But just as he was about to step down and disrupt the conversation, it became even more uncomfortable.

“You just like me because I was raped too, and that’s not fair!” The neighbor kid cried. He sounded like he were literally about to bust out sobbing. 

That was a detail that neither Don nor Donna had bothered to mention. It was _no wonder_ Frank had clung to that older boy so much. 

“But, Gerard—you _get_ me!” Frank said.

“No I don’t! I don’t! I’m _nothing_ like you! Nothing about what happened to me was _anything_ like what that guy did, okay? He was my _friend,_ okay? It’s different.”

“No,” Frank whimpered.

His father didn’t know if it was a good idea or not to stop the conversation before it went on any longer. He really didn’t know what the fuck was happening. If Gerard had been the one Frank had been confiding in all this time, did that mean Gerard had known all along? That he’d known _before_ Frank said anything?

Wouldn’t that mean Gerard kept quiet about it and let it go on for who knew how much longer? Weeks? Months?

“It was different,” Gerard mumbled.

Frank’s father was about to step down from the stairwell, but froze again when Gerard kept talking. He really felt like a child trying to sneak out of his own house… He was afraid to interrupt their conversation, but that stupid neighbor kid was upsetting his son…

“I mean… I could’ve stopped him any time I wanted. You didn’t have a say. No one would’ve believed you.”

“I know,” Frank mumbled.

Frank’s father couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Wouldn’t have believed him? How the fuck could that boy fill his son’s head with lies? It was all obvious now. _Gerard_ was the one who’d convinced him to be quiet about the attacks for so long! Telling him no one would believe him.

“I didn’t tell him to stop… It was my own fault, so _please_ quit pitying me.”

So apparently his son thought this boy had been attacked because he’d taken some sort of lover. Poor Frank had been so sheltered he thought that homosexuality had to be rape… Unfortunately, that wasn’t true and there were people who _chose_ to do what Frank had been forced into doing. 

“Gerard,” Frank started, sounding like he was crying. “If you hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have told anyone—if it weren’t for you… If you hadn’t… I just love you.”

“Don’t _love_ me,” the neighbor kid said. 

“If it weren’t for you, though…”

“No—they would’ve figure it out. Your parents would’ve figured it out—All I did was say guys can rape guys. That’s _it._ ”

“No!” Frank cried.

“Yes—please stop it. Your dad is going to hear you…”

“I don’t care,” Frank whispered. “If he knew what you’d been through—”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Gerard said. “He hates me—I’m disgusting to him, okay? I’m poor, I’m a fag, and I’m a drug addict.”

“No you’re not! You stopped the drugs…”

“You wouldn’t know that!” The neighbor kid sounded like he was about to have a panic attack, and Frank almost seemed determined to make it happen. He kept pushing and pushing until the older boy broke. “Stop—just stop trying to touch me! I don’t want—I don’t! Stop it!”

Frank’s father finally broke free of his trance and stepped down into the living room. He tried to pretend Frank’s hand wasn’t on the older boy’s thigh and that a seventeen-year-old wasn’t crawling away from his child in fear. 

“What… What are you boys doing?” He asked, pretending he hadn’t overheard anything. He would talk to Frank later… He would talk to _Gerard_ later. And his fucking parents, too. He was going to get to the bottom of this whole mess, and if that boy kept Frank’s attacks a secret, he was going to rip him apart.

“Nothing,” Frank said, sitting up straight. Gerard kept his eyes trained on Frank, looking frightened and prepared to sprint for the door.

“Is your movie over?” He asked, looking at Gerard who stood up from the floor stiffly. The boy met his gaze for a second and then bolted toward the door. He’d captured from one glance exactly what was happening and he ran like a coward. 

“Gerard!” Frank called, standing up from the floor and staring at Gerard sadly as he unlocked the door and hurried outside without a single word. 

Frank turned to look at his father and bit his lip gently. 

Apparently, the look on his face was so obvious that even his son could tell that he’d overheard…


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

Gerard sprinted into his house, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He tripped on his way to the basement stairs and nearly fell, but managed to keep his footing.

“Gerard?”

He couldn’t stop when his mother called for him. It felt like he was being chased and he was so sure someone was about to grab him. When he was three steps away from his bedroom, he tripped again and fell off of the steps and hit the hard, concrete basement floor face first. 

“Gerard!?” His mother started down the stairs after him, panting in fear as she knelt down at his side. “Are you okay?” She started pulling him up, but Gerard pulled away from her. 

His face hurt, but not as badly as his chest—he felt like he was going to suffocate and he wasn’t sure if it was from his panic attack or the shock of falling down the stairs.

“Hey—what’s wrong? What’s the matter?—Let me see your face. Let me see your face!”

“I’m fine,” Gerard stammered, trying to keep his face turned away from her so should couldn’t see that he was close to crying.  
Frank’s father was going to call soon—he could feel it in his stomach and who knew what would happen then. He was probably going to say he tried to touch Frank, or that it was his fault for everything.

Gerard had _known_ not to get involved with the kid. He’d tried so hard to keep Frank away from him so he wouldn’t go back to Juvie. He tried!

“Hey—Gerard, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

“Mom?” Mikey had appeared at the top of the steps and was looking down at them nervously.

“It’s fine, Mikey—He fell on the stairs. Just go back to watching TV.”

“But—”

“Michael, your brother—”

“Frank’s dad is here…” Mikey said, his voice full of dread and understanding. Gerard had told him about how much the kid clung to him, and Mikey knew what everyone thought of his brother. It wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together. 

“Oh,” Donna said, looking at Gerard and rubbing his shoulder. “Gerard, do you wanna tell me what happened before he does?”

“Mom?” Mikey asked.

“Tell him I’ll be right there, Michael,” she snapped. Mikey disappeared quickly and Gerard lay forward against the floor again. “Gerard?”

“I swear to God I didn’t touch him,” Gerard said. It was all he could think to say, even though he was sure Frank’s father didn’t think he’d been raping him too.

“Touch who?—Gerard, what did you do over there?”

“It wasn’t _me,_ ” Gerard cried, covering his face with his hands and shaking as he tried to hold back his sobs. He was terrified. It wasn’t fair that this kid could have some much power over him.

One word from Frank—one ‘he said it was what guy friends do’—and Gerard would be in prison. And Frank _knew_ that….

“What happened? Just tell me what happened?”

“We were watching the movie,” Gerard whispered. “He grabbed me, and his dad came downstairs and…”

“Okay… Do you want to come explain to him?” Donna asked, rubbing her son’s shoulder. She knew he wasn’t violent—wasn’t cruel. He was a brat and he liked to yell and act tough, but he cowered at the sight of a fist. 

“No,” Gerard whispered.

“Well, I’m gonna go see what he’s got to say. You just stay down here. I’ll make sure he knows you didn’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” Gerard cried. 

“Hush. I’ll go take care of it.” His mother walked up the steps and disappeared, closing the door at the top of the stairs behind her so Gerard wouldn’t have to listen.

Unable to take much more, Gerard crawled into his bed and pulled his blankets over his head. Even when the heat because unbearable and he was desperate for air, he didn’t break the seal. If he suffocated, he really didn’t care.

( ) ( ) ( )

When Donna stepped up into the kitchen, it was obvious to anyone looking that she was prepared to protect her son from anyone who would try to hurt him. She knew him better than anyone else—knew about the rape, knew about the guilt, knew who it had been (even though she wouldn’t admit it), and she knew for damn sure that her son was no rapist. Anyone who was going to try to say otherwise should be prepared to be proven wrong.

“Donna,” Frank Sr. said. He saw it in her face that she was looking for a fight, and he wasn’t about to get into it with a woman with eyes that threatened to kill.

“What did he do?” She asked, scowling darkly and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I don’t really know. I came downstairs and he ran out of my house like he was set on fire. So you tell me…”

Donna’s eyes darkened and she took a step closer to her neighbor.

“My son didn’t touch that boy. He _wouldn’t._ ”

“I know that,” Frank Sr. said, shaking his head in disgust. It was Frank who had grabbed Gerard, and it was Gerard who’d run away.

“Then what do you want? You’re tryin’ to harass my son, aren’t you? You’re tyrin’ to scare him—all he did was try to be a friend to that boy! Bought him a fuckin’ copy of _Cats_ because your ex-wife’s boyfriend crushed his copy. Does that sound like someone who wants to hurt your son?”

“No,” Frank Sr. said, taking a step back from the woman, afraid she would lunge at him and tear his face off with her claw-like nails.

“So what do you want? You want to _blame_ him for something?”

“Hey, he _knew_ what was happening to Frank. He knew and he said _nothing!_ ”

“You can’t prove that! If Gerard knew someone was being hurt, he would tell me.”

“I heard Frank say that Gerard had been supporting him—He barely even saw your son after he was put in the hospital! _Your_ son told Frank what _rape_ was—he _knew_ what was going on and _let_ Frank get put in the hospital!”

“Don’t you dare try to blame my son!” Donna growled. “Don’t you even _dare._ It’s your fault that you and your ex-wife missed all the signs! If Gerard knew, it’s _your fault_ he knew before you did!”

“What signs!? There were _no_ signs!” The truth was, Frank Sr. was desperate to believe he’d never noticed. After it all came out in the open, he saw it all fall into place. The way Frank would squirm when he sat in the car—the way he’d shift around constantly _whenever_ he sat down. The crying, the nightmares, the vomiting…

After he’d lied and said he’d seen nothing, he immediately felt ashamed. He couldn’t blame Gerard for not speaking up. Gerard was a kid… He was no different than Frank.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Donna spat. “He was crying the first day he came here—he was crying _every time_ he came here. I had to ask Gerard if Frank told him that _you_ we beating him! Even _I_ saw how much pain he was in!”

“Fine,” Frank Sr. said, lowering his head briefly in hopes of showing Donna some sign of submission so she would back off a little. “Frank…Frank was talking to Gerard tonight.”

“So my son is rapist?” Donna snapped, glaring at the man bitterly.

“No, but—”

“So you didn’t see my son attacking Frank?”

“No…”

“So you came here to scream at me and terrify _my_ children because…?”

“Frank said…Frank said he loved… loved Gerard.”

“So he has a crush on my kid!” Donna shouted. “That’s _not_ Gerard’s fault!”

“Gerard is seventeen!”

“He’s a _good_ kid!”

“He’s not a child, Donna. He—”

“Shut up!” Donna shouted, her voice going shrill but sounding even more forceful. “Frank has _latched_ on to my child because _my son_ listened to him! _My son_ saw he was being hurt. _My son_ reached out to Frank! Don’t you _dare_ make Gerard look like the bad guy! If you want to see the bad guy, look at yourself!—Every time conversations get tense, Frank throws up! Every time! Wasn’t that enough to tip you off?—Gerard saw it!”

“Okay, okay,” Frank Sr. said, holding up his hands in hopes of quieting her.

“Don’t you dare snub your nose at my son because he’s gay—I will burn your fucking house to the ground before I let you bible-thump my child. I will get your son _taken from you_ before I’ll let you hurt Gerard. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t want to _hurt Gerard,_ ” Frank Sr. said, backing further away from Donna. She scowled at him with eyes leaking venom and fire. When she said she’d burn down his house, Frank was sure she’d meant it.

“Then what do you want? To come pick on the gay kid—to make sure he’s not a child molester? Don’t worry, he’s not—your wife already fucked one of those.”

“I just want to know if Frank _told him_ before he got put in the hospital!”

“As far as I know, you came here to get Frank one night and then about half an hour later I saw him getting taken away in an ambulance. He’s never left _my house_ in an ambulance.”

“He hit himself in the head!”

“I _know!_ Gerard _told me_ because I asked him if Frank said you were hitting him.”

“So let me ask Gerard if he knew…”

“So he can say yes and you can put _him_ in the hospital? I don’t think so.”

“So he did know!”

“Why do you _think_ Frank clings to him so much!? He trusts Gerard—Gerard listens to him when he’s upset. So he told Gerard he loved him—so what?”

“My son’s not gay,” Frank Sr. said firmly. “He was attacked and he’s confused.”

“And that’s what Don said when Gerard started bringing boys home. It’s been three years and he’s never once mentioned an attractive girl at school.”

“He’s confused—and your son is making him think it’s okay!”

“It _is_ okay!” Donna snapped. “If I could have a boy who skulked around my house because some chick won’t return his phone calls, I would be ecstatic. But I don’t. I have a son who sits in my kitchen at three in the morning crying because he can’t get his boyfriend on the line—and I really don’t give a damn. I _love_ my son, and you’re a damned fool if you think I’m letting you get anywhere near him.”

“I’m not going to let your son convince Frank that he’s gay, alright?”

“Get out of my house,” Donna said firmly.

“Not until that boy tells me what he’s done to Frank.”

“He hasn’t touched Frank.” Donna locked eyes with him and didn’t blink.

“He told Frank he was raped!”

“He was!”

“It was his _boyfriend!_ It wasn’t a _rape._ ”

“Get out.”

“He’s got Frank thinking that the sex makes him gay—he’s not.”

“Get out.”

“Just let me talk to Gerard.”

“No.”

“He told Frank no one would believe him if he told, alright? I wanna know why he thought it was acceptable to advise Frank not to speak up!”

“You can talk to Gerard all you want, but only when you’re calm. If you go down there, you’re going to push him to commit suicide, and you don’t want to know what I’d do to you if you got _my_ son killed. Frank confided in Gerard. Deal with it. If you’d been a better father, he would’ve gone to you instead. Now get out.”

Donna knew what to say to bring a man to his knees. She just said whatever she’d felt when she’d found out about what had happened to her son. 

She remembered the night Gerard came home, too quiet and too pliant. She’d asked where he’d been and all he did was shrug and head upstairs to his bedroom. He’d slept in the same room as Mikey, and Mikey told her the next morning that Gerard kept him up all night crying. The next day she’d tried and tried to get Gerard to tell her what happened, but he stayed silent. 

The next night, Mikey had become just as depressed as his older brother. That was when she knew. He’d turned to his brother instead of his parents—his kid brother who had no way to protect him.

Donna had known something was wrong with Frank the first time she met him. She also knew from the way he blushed whenever he looked at Gerard that there was more going on in his mind than his troubles at home. Every time Frank came over he was seeking Gerard. It was either idolization or a crush.

Apparently, it was the latter.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey had sat next to his father on the couch the entire time that his mother had screamed at Frank’s dad. She was _terrifying_ and Mikey had thought he’d seen the brunt of her anger the time he and Gerard had broken the window of their old house fighting over a cassette tape. He was _glad_ he’d never seen her get this mad before. If she yelled at him like this, Mikey was sure he would just die….

When Frank’s dad finally left, Mikey wanted to crawl under the couch and hide from her. He didn’t know how his dad had managed to remain in front of the TV without even twitching the entire time.

“You couldn’t even step in and say something?” His mother said, coming into the room and staring his father down.

“You seemed to have the hang of it, dear.”

“Did you not _hear_ what he was saying about Gerard?”

“Gerard knew and he didn’t tell anyone—he’s got a right to be mad at him.”

“So you think—Mikey, go check on Gerard—So you think it’s okay to let a stranger harass him?”

“No, dear.” 

Mikey got off the couch and practically sprinted down to the basement. He found Gerard in bed, hidden under the blankets.

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked, staying at the base of the stairs.

“That kid tried to grab me,” Gerard mumbled, pulling the blankets away from his face.

“Did he hurt you?” Mikey asked. Yeah, it was kind of strange to think of his older brother being attacked by a short little kid like Frank, but Gerard never really had been all that tough…

“No… His dad’s gonna beat me.” 

“Um, no…He’s not. Did you not hear Mom up there? She tore him a new asshole!”

“I didn’t know that if I went over there that he was gonna act like that,” Gerard said. Mikey could tell that Gerard was trying not to cry and it made him feel awkward.

“What happened?”

“He said he loved me—I don’t…I don’t know why he said that…”

“Because you…hang out with him?” Mikey asked.

“He grabbed my dick when his dad came downstairs,” Gerard said, closing his eyes tightly and looking as if he were in serious pain.

“That’s gross,” Mikey said, trying to stay unaffected. Sometimes if he kept his cool, it helped Gerard calm down.

“Why is he doing this?” Gerard asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Well… He’s got a crush on you. Isn’t that cool?”

“No!” Gerard said. He let out a sob and Mikey cringed.

So maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say… It was a little weird. Frank was like…ten. Or something. Mikey didn’t really know how old he was, but he was young and Gerard was old. It was probably uncomfortable having a kid crushing on him. 

“Mom’s gonna be pissed at me,” Gerard cried, covering his face with his hands.

“No she’s not.”

“Yes she is! She was his dad’s friend—I fucked it up! I made the neighbor hate us and…and—shit. Shit. I can’t take this! It wasn’t my _fault!_ Why did everyone expect me to tell? It’s not my life! It wasn’t my problem!”

“So…You did know?”

“It wasn’t my fault he got hurt,” Gerard said quietly. “It wasn’t my fault—it was his responsibility to tell! It was his!”

“I know that,” Mikey said, shrugging. It was always so awkward when his mother made him try to console Gerard when he got like this. He was just _so_ emotional… He always overreacted. If he’d just calm down, he’d realize that no one was mad at him.

So a kid had a crush—he’d move on. Gerard didn’t _have_ to like him back. It would be fine. Gerard just needed to…well, _chill out._

( ) ( ) ( )

“You’re grounded.” 

Those were the first words Frank’s father said when he got back from Gerard’s house. Frank had heard Donna’s screaming, even from next door. She was determined to protect Gerard and that was good… He just wished it didn’t have to be his dad she had to defend him against.

“Dad?”

“Go to your room,” his father said, pointing at the stairwell. He wouldn’t make eye contact with him and that just made Frank angry. He didn’t know _anything._

“If you ground me I’m telling Mom to come pick me up!” Frank yelled.

“Just go to your room!”

Frank glared at his father but gave in and started towards the steps. It just wasn’t fair that his dad wouldn’t even let him talk. He tried telling him before he left that he’d been talking to Gerard about personal things and it wasn’t right for him to try to get involved.

His dad had just shouted that it was his duty as a father to make sure no one “raped his son again.” Because apparently Gerard was just a pedophile like Ronnie. 

Frank stomped up the stairs, trying to fight his sadness with anger. He slammed his bedroom door behind him and fell down heavily onto his bed. With a deep sigh, he wrapped himself up in his blankets and groaned. 

It just wasn’t fair…

Frank really wondered what all his father had heard, but there was no way he was going to ask… His worst fear was that he’d heard him confess to Gerard that he loved him. His father would _not_ take that news well at all…

Frank could honestly see his dad taking him to the church and having him exorcised of demons if he knew his son might be gay. 

It also didn’t help that his dad had come downstairs when Frank had been grabbing Gerard’s thigh. If Gerard hadn’t jumped like he’d been stabbed, Frank would’ve only touched his knee instead of his dick…

Frank moaned and buried his face in his pillow. Why couldn’t things just be easy for once? He liked Gerard…couldn’t Gerard like him back? Even if he was older…

Frank wouldn’t tell anyone if they got together. He really, really liked Gerard. He wouldn’t let him get put in jail… Someone might hurt him there. And if his dad tried to hurt Gerard, Frank was certain he would make sure his dad would suffer. Gerard was scared and sweet—his dad just _didn’t understand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for protective mothers!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super-long wait. It's been finals week on campus, but fortunately that's over with and now I'm home for break--so, hopefully, more updates soon!

_Chapter Thirteen_

Gerard cried out in pain and grabbed onto the pillow beneath his head. He tried to keep his noises stifled, but he couldn’t help the actual scream that came when his lover for the night pushed more in than just the tip.

“You see—I _told_ you!” The man, Tyler, said, freezing. “I _told_ you it’d be too big for you…”

“Just…Just, don’t…God!” Gerard actually felt tears falling from his eyes and finally let out the sob that had been building in his chest. 

“I told you…most guys can’t, well, _fit it_ the first time. Why did you have to push it?—are you okay?” Tyler started trying to pull out and Gerard screamed and grabbed onto his arm.

“Don’t! That hurts!” Gerard cried.

“I gotta take it out—you’re bleeding. I can feel it—are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Gerard sobbed. He listened to Tyler sighing heavily over him and screamed when he pulled out in one quick motion. “Ow! Fuck you!” Gerard cried, rolling onto his side and gripping the pillow to console himself.

“Hey—Hey, don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Tyler started stroking his hair and kissing his wet cheek. “I had to take it out, okay? I didn’t do it to hurt you—it was already hurting. I just wanted to make it stop, okay?”

“Well, it hurt worse,” Gerard cried, staring at Tyler’s bedroom wall through his tears. Tyler had warmed him before he even came over that it probably wouldn’t fit because, dear God, it wasn’t fair how big he was. Gerard had just really wanted the companionship. He was lonely and the only friends he had during the summer—especially after moving to a new school—were Mikey and Frank. And Gerard was _terrified_ of Frank.

“Open your legs—let me see how bad the bleeding is.”

“No,” Gerard muttered, kicking at Tyler’s hands when they grabbed for his ankles.

“Stop it,” Tyler said, slapping Gerard on the back of the thigh painfully before forcing his legs apart. 

“Stop,” Gerard wailed, more ashamed than wounded. Tyler started prodding a finger at his entrance and then pulled away.

“There’s a lot of blood.”

“Well, it hurt!” Gerard cried. 

“I _told_ you when you came over—you said,” Tyler paused to laugh at him, “you said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Gerard didn’t reply. He started at the wall and tried to keep from crying any harder. He really just didn’t want to go home so soon… His dad told him to be home by eight-thirty and it was only six o’clock. But he guessed if they weren’t fucking, he had no other reason to be in the apartment. 

Slowly, Gerard sat up on the mattress and reached for his discarded shirt on the floor. 

“You’re bleeding everywhere…”

“So fucking shoot me!” Gerard shouted, biting back a sob as he stood up in order to step into his boxers. 

“Don’t get an attitude—you’re the one who lied to me about being able to take it.”

“I didn’t know it was that big!” Gerard said, sobbing and sinking back down onto the bed. 

“Don’t cry…come here.” Tyler wrapped Gerard up in his arms and kissed him on the top of the head. “It’s okay. It didn’t go in very far so…the bleeding will stop. You won’t, like, need the ER or anything, right?”

“No,” Gerard snapped, sniffing while snuggling back into the arms around him. At least Tyler was trying to be sweet about it… He wasn’t mad—and he wasn’t still trying to make it fit—so he wasn’t a terrible person…

“It’s gonna take a week or so for…for it to heal, but I think after that we can try opening you up a little more,” Tyler said into Gerard’s ear.

“What?” Gerard asked, trying to pull away but finding himself encased in Tyler’s arms. 

“I mean, if you wanted to, I know some ways to help get you used to bigger things.”

“Why would—”

“Look—you’re pretty, you’re fuckin’ sexy, you’re _funny…_ I like you. I wouldn’t mind trying to make this more serious instead of just a fling.”

“Like…like what?” Gerard asked. His instincts told him that Tyler was trying to ask him out, but that was something that just _didn’t_ happen in Gerard’s life. Just did not happen.

Guys didn’t ask to date him. Guys fucked him, courted him for a few weeks at most, and then dropped him for someone more attractive with fewer issues.

“Like date,” Tyler said, laughing softly. “I’m asking if you want to date—God, you’re so awkward that it’s adorable.”

Gerard stayed frozen, unable to trust that Tyler was being honest and wasn’t just saying it to get his hopes up and earn him…earn him more free sex than what he’d get if they were just friends with benefits.

Surely that was all Tyler really wanted… An assurance that Gerard would stay around long enough for Tyler to be able to fit it in _eventually._

“You don’t want to date me,” Gerard mumbled, squirming to get out of Tyler’s hands.

“Why not?” Tyler asked, laughing and just holding onto Gerard tighter.

It was starting to make Gerard nervous.

“Because—no one actually wants to be with a train wreck like me. Would you please let go!?” Gerard fought harder to get out of Tyler’s grasp and managed to finally succeed. Once he was free, the force of his movements was so strong that he almost ended up falling out of the bed.

Instead of helping him, Tyler just laughed and shook his head.

“Babe, you’re not a train wreck. Come here—you’re really cute. So what if you’re awkward? Everyone is a little awkward. Don’t be shy…come on.”

“You don’t want to date me just because I’m cute and _awkward,_ ” Gerard mumbled, picking up his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

“You’re also funny, and sweet,” Tyler said, reaching out to grab for Gerard’s arm. Gerard successfully evaded him.

“Stop…”

“What’s the matter? I have to say, when I picked you up the first time, I didn’t think you were a one-night-stand kind of kid. Way to prove me wrong—Jesus.” 

Gerard looked at Tyler sadly as he pulled on his jeans. The pain was excruciating, and he didn’t know how he was going to explain away his obvious limp to his parents.

“I’m…I’m just not good for dating. I don’t want you to get involved with me just so you can figure it out later and dump me. I should come with a warning label tattooed on my fuckin’ face,” Gerard muttered, crawling back into bed once he was dressed because as much as he wanted to escape the situation, he couldn’t bear to have a guy angry with him. He didn’t _want_ turned away, he just knew that if they dated it would end in flames and injuries…

“Okay,” Tyler said, crossing his arms over his chest and examining Gerard carefully. “What’s so wrong with you that you need a warning label? I already know you were in Juvie—what’s worse than that?”

“I’m just…I’ve got issues,” Gerard whispered, looking down at the blood splatter that was seeping into Tyler’s mattress.

“Like what?” Tyler asked, following Gerard’s gaze and throwing a blanket over the stain to break his concentration. “Like _what?_ ”

“Like…the neighbor kid. He vents to me and I have no one to go to…”

“Wait…you’re jealous that the neighbor kid is talking to you about rape, and you can’t tell people about it?”

“Not…not about what happened to him,” Gerard said, shrugging in order to appear indifferent. “About…about what happened to me.” If they were going to date, Tyler was going to have to know about it…he’d find out sooner or later, and it was best that he found out before he even got involved that he would be dating nothing more than damaged goods.

“Happened to you? What the hell happened to you?”

Gerard shrugged and picked at the blanket. He mumbled something about his old friend and being jumped in the alley by the library, but kept it vague.

“That’s not a fuckin’ answer—what happened? What do you need to vent about?”

“About my friend,” Gerard whispered. “He…he jumped me in the alley…”

“ _Jumped_ you? You’re upset because your friend jumped you, and that why we can’t date?” Tyler asked.

“I didn’t say we _couldn’t,_ ” Gerard whispered. “I just said that…I have issues and I’m weird.”

“I _like_ that you’re weird, Gerard. And everyone’s got issues. Like your neighbor—he got fucked by his dad—”

“It wasn’t his dad,” Gerard muttered.

“—got fucked by _whoever,_ he comes crying to you, and you’re saying I shouldn’t want to date you because you want someone to cry to about having a guy you though was your friend mug you?”

“He didn’t _mug_ me!” Gerard snapped.

“Then what did he do?” Tyler snapped. He apparently made the connection once the words were out because his face immediately became void of its hostility and he gasped. “Shit… Well, I guess you can’t be taking it all too hard if you’re willing to get into bed with me on our first date, you know?”

“I just…I didn’t want every time to remind me of him, so…”

“So you decided to be easy and non-committal…”

“He raped me,” Gerard whispered, hoping it would take the judgment out of Tyler’s voice. It was just as he’d predicted—once Tyler found out what he was, he didn’t want him anymore.

“And you gave up your integrity—Geez, I can respect a guy who sleeps around because the sex is good, but you take that to an _entirely_ different level. You’re just using people as band-aides.”

“They just use me for sex, what’s the difference?” Gerard mumbled.

Tyler was quiet for a long time. Then he said it would probably be best if Gerard went home early, but didn’t offer to give him a ride. 

He made him walk.

( ) ( ) ( )

To say things had become awkward between Frank and his father after everything that had happened would be a massive understatement. Obviously, talking about Gerard or the neighbors in general became off-limits, and since it was forbidden to even talk about what happened that night, there was no clearing the issue up.

Frank tried so many times over the next week to tell his dad it was all an accident. He went to touch Gerard, Gerard flinched, hands went to the _wrong place._ That was all that happened! Gerard didn’t even do anything…

But all his dad wanted to talk about was why Frank told Gerard before he told anyone else. Had he done something wrong as a father? Did he not seem open enough? Was it because he believed Ronnie when he’d said Frank told the head master that he was getting beaten at home?

No. The answer to all of it was _no,_ but his father just didn’t want to believe that. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that he went to Gerard. Gerard just understood. It made Frank so angry that everyone blamed Gerard for not telling everyone what he knew… It was that unbroken promise of secrecy that made him love Gerard so much. Gerard didn’t break his trust. Gerard was sweet and kind…

“Dad?” Frank said across the dinner table, trying _one last time_ to make his father understand.

“Yeah?”

“I…” Once he spoke, there was no going back, but that didn’t make it any easier to speak. “I only told Gerard those things about me because he knew what happened…”

“What do you mean ‘he knew what happened?’” His father snapped. “You keep saying that, but it means nothing. You told him because he knew?—What the hell did he know that you didn’t?”

Frank lowered his gaze to his half-empty dinner plate and tried to fight the tears that started welling in his eyes. It wasn’t his fault that no one told him men could fuck each other. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know what fucking rape was. It wasn’t his fault! 

_Gerard_ knew that! Gerard told him over and over—before they even knew each other that well—that it wasn’t his fault he was “sheltered.” 

Maybe Frank should have known what it was. It was obvious what had been happening—there were private parts out in the open and fluids going into his body—but It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know what it was beyond the fact that it hurt…

“Answer me,” his father said. “You wanted to discuss this—let’s discuss it. What the hell did that kid know?”

Frank closed his eyes tightly and sunk his teeth into his lip. He didn’t want to admit it. It sounded so stupid now. He was embarrassed and ashamed—he was _sorry_ he didn’t know how to tell his parents about Ronnie. He was _sorry!_ But it wasn’t his fault! Why did everyone forget how bad Ronnie had hurt him? 

“Frank…”

“I didn’t know what rape was,” Frank mumbled. “Not…not between _guys._ No one ever told me…”

“And why did Gerard bring that bit of knowledge up?” his father asked. His tone was much more gentle, but it still held a tone of condescension. 

“When he came to check on me in the bathroom,” Frank whispered, hoping he wasn’t going to somehow land Gerard in even more trouble. “When I got sick at the table… He said I was taking too long when we were talking and that we had to go downstairs before someone thought he was raping me.”

His father was actually silent. Frank risked a glance at his father’s face and found him staring at the table blankly. He was just relieved that his dad didn’t decide to shout about how disrespectful it was for Gerard to joke about sexual assault…

“So…you told him in the bathroom that you were raped because he gave you a _word for it?_ ”

“No,” Frank stammered, suddenly terrified that his father was going to think he’d lied and set Ronnie up to just _look_ like a rapist. “I-I told him guys couldn’t get raped and he told me they could and later I asked how and he told me and I knew—okay!?”

“You need to calm down…” His father said, looking at him with some sort of fake sympathy. 

“I knew and then he…he looked at me and knew that I realized something and he freaked out because it brought back memories. He’s a victim, too! I don’t like that you’re mean to him when he hasn’t done anything! If Gerard hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known! I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“He told you _not_ to tell anyone!” 

“No he didn’t!”

“He told you if you said anything no one would believe you!”

“ _I told him_ no one would believe me! And it was true!” Frank screamed, the tears finally breaking free from his eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had one friend in the world and that was Gerard. It wasn’t fair that everyone tried to keep them apart. Gerard was good person—why did everyone think he was some kind of a monster? “I _tried_ telling Mom that Ronnie was lying! I _tried!_ No one listened to me! I told you that I didn’t say anything to the headmaster and you still yelled at me! I told you over and over! ” 

“Okay—okay, it wasn’t his fault. Okay.”

“No! It’s _not okay!_ You blamed Gerard and it’s not his fault! You got him in trouble with his parents and everything, Dad! All he did was help me!”

“Calm down, Frank—I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t know that. This is why you need to talk to me…”

“No! No, because I _can’t_ talk to you!”

“Why?”

Frank sobbed and got up from the table. He couldn’t take it anymore. No one understood what it was like except for Gerard. Gerard understood the shame, the guilt, the embarrassment… Gerard knew why he couldn’t tell right away.

Maybe if he father had seen how terrified Gerard had looked when he finally realized what Frank had been trying to tell him—about Ronnie, about the rape—if only he’d seen that horrified look… Then he would understand.

Gerard wasn’t the bad one… Frank was.

( ) ( ) ( )

When Gerard stepped through the front door of his house, he almost screamed—and not just from the pain he was in because of Tyler. 

Frank’s dad was standing in his kitchen, and it was too late to try to sneak back out because his mother and Frank’s dad had seen him standing on the porch.

“I…I was with Tyler, you know that,” Gerard said, looking at his mother in terror because he was afraid of what the crazy neighbor was going to charge him with this time.

“I know,” his mother said. “He came here to apologize.”

“He…He doesn’t have to,” Gerard said quickly, coming inside and closing the door behind him as formidably as he could. He tried to disguise his pain as he stumbled through the kitchen towards the stairs down to his basement bedroom, but he could tell by the way his mother was observing him that he’d already been figured out.

His father tried to keep it out of mind, but his mom knew what he was doing when he got in the car with another boy. She knew…and sometimes it felt like she pitied him.

“Gerard…” His mother said in a warning tone. 

He did his best to ignore her, and tried to muster some sort of anger when all he really felt was terror and nausea. So the man wanted to apologize to him? Why? So he could come over tomorrow and accuse him of something else? It wasn’t over—Frank wouldn’t _let_ it be over. Until Frank got a crush on someone else, the fear Gerard felt would never end. It would only fester. 

“Whatever,” Gerard mumbled, leaning against the doorframe of the basement stairwell. He tried to look angry, but he knew that his exhaustion was all that came through. 

Frank’s father started muttering about how sorry he was that he blamed Gerard for what happened, and how it was his _own fault_ for not realizing what was happening to his son sooner. He said something about how he understood “now” why Frank had come to him instead of his parents, and that he realized Gerard had never told his son not to tell anyone about Ronnie.

Gerard just wished the man would go away—send an apology card or an apology chocolate cake instead of this stupid, insincere conversation.

Didn’t he realize yet that Gerard didn’t care if he was blamed for Frank’s misfortune or not? He wasn’t upset because he thought Frank’s father blamed him—he was upset because Frank had a crush on him that could put Gerard in prison if he pursued it. 

The kid was stealing kisses and grabbing him all the time—Gerard knew what would come next. The kid would grow up, the kid would turn bitter, the kid would go full-out rapist. He’d turn into Ronnie and Gerard was going to be his favorite victim because Gerard would have been the one who always turned him down. 

Was Frank’s father here to apologize for that? No. He was just here to make everything worse.

“Whatever.” Gerard completely disregarded the words spoken to him and he limped down the steps to his bedroom. 

There were a few words muttered upstairs before his mother started stomping down the basement stairs after him.

“And what was that about? He was _apologizing_ to you! You _need_ to have that man like you or else he’s going to try to get you sent back to Juvie or something! Gerard…”

Gerard stared at his desk and stared at one of his unfinished sketches. He’d been working on it when Tyler had called and offered to have him over for dinner—and a quick fuck.

A fuck that turned into a nightmare. 

“Gerard, answer me….”

“What?” Gerard asked. “He’s only here so he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to kill him…”

“Gerard, I know it doesn’t fix what he did to you, but at least it can…I don’t know—alleviate some tension.”

“He pretty much accused me of raping his son. His kid is the one who grabbed me—the kid’s a freak. Until he apologizes to me for _that,_ I don’t want to hear it…” Gerard sat down at the desk stiffly and returned to the old sketch.

“He doesn’t think you raped Frank,” his mother said with a heavy sigh. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t accept his apology either. I just let him _think_ that so we can go back to being somewhat friendly neighbors. We don’t need enemies.”

“I don’t even want to _pretend._ He’s trying to blame me for not ratting Frank out when he told me, but it was Frank’s responsibility. Besides, that Ronnie guy had so many traps set that if he _did_ tell right away, it would be his parents in prison—not Ronnie.”

“I know he put the blame on you, but that’s just… He’s just in denial. He knows it’s not your fault.”

“Whatever,” Gerard muttered, sketching angry dark lines on the page, ruining his sketch and not caring. It was just a bad memory now anyway.

“What happened at your friend’s house?” His mother asked. Gerard shrugged, but she was having none of it. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not on purpose,” Gerard grumbled, feeling exposed and humiliated. His sex life wasn’t something his mother needed to know about. He wished she’d just back off, be less of a mother, and let him live his life in private.

“Well, if you didn’t get anything to eat I have left over pizza in the fridge…if you’re hungry later.”

“You made a pizza?” Gerard asked, looking over his shoulder at his mother as she started back up the basement steps.

“I ordered a pizza,” his mother said back.

“You ordered a pizza without me?” Gerard asked, slowly getting up from his desk and following her back upstairs. Tyler didn’t offer him much to eat besides dry toast, and he was really hungry…and pizza was a perfect ending to a bad day. 

“Well, I figured there’d be some left for you—Mikey isn’t feeling too good today so he only had one piece.”

“He must be dying,” Gerard said, trying to keep his humor alive. When he stepped into the kitchen he looked around quickly to make sure Frank’s father was gone before going over to the fridge and pulling out a mostly empty pizza box. There were only three slices left, but that was fine—that was perfect.

“Leave him a piece in case he gets hungry later, alright?” His mother said, going around the corner into the living room.

“Fine, Ma,” Gerard mumbled, taking out two slice and throwing the box back into the fridge. He threw his two slices onto a plate and set them in the microwave. While they were heating back up, he listened to his parents mumbling to one another in the other room over the hum of the microwave.

They were, of course, arguing about “what to do” with him…


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Fourteen_

Gerard knew it would be a stupid idea to ask Tyler to come over to his house. He knew it was stupid to associate with Tyler at all after what happened…but he got lonely. Despite his best efforts, Gerard couldn’t get any of his other male friends to pay him any attention, and couldn’t get any new ones to take interest in him.

So, out of nothing more than desperation, he called Tyler while his parents were out taking Mikey to get some new school clothes. Tyler agreed to come over on the condition that Gerard would give him a blow job, but that was something Gerard was willing to do to get attention…

He hated himself for how desperate he was. He felt so useless, but there was nothing he could do. It was either appeal to Tyler or go on living alone in fear of the child that lived next door.

“Hey,” Gerard said as he unlocked the front door and let Tyler into his empty house. 

“I ordered us a pizza since you said there wasn’t any food—it should be here in like ten minutes,” Tyler said. He looked at Gerard so coldly. Tyler acted as though coming here was an action requiring great effort… Like free sex from the fat freak was just barely worth the time and energy.

“Thanks,” Gerard said, closing the door after Tyler. He watched him sadly as Tyler looked over the dingy kitchen as if scrutinizing the place. “How…is work?” Gerard asked.

“Boring as shit—how’s the brat next door?”

“I haven’t seen him… His dad was here though to ‘apologize’ or whatever.”

“For what?” Tyler asked. He didn’t sound like he really cared.

“It’s a long story,” Gerard answered in a hushed whisper. 

“So you said you wanted to watch a movie?” Tyler said.

“I…I guess,” Gerard said, scanning the floor with his eyes. He was suddenly starting to feel tense. It was no different from any of the other men he’d hooked up with, but this all felt wrong. 

They always came over—or he went to them—and ate and watched TV before getting down to the point. The imitation wine-and-dine routine was just Gerard’s way of convincing himself that the fake relationship was at least in some way real.

Most guys barely played along and it wasn’t unusual for a lover to get bitter about wasting the time before getting the deed done, but something about the look in Tyler’s eyes just made Gerard anxious.

When the pizza came, they started watching a b-list horror film that Gerard had in his bedroom. Once Tyler was finished eating, his hands were immediately on Gerard’s body, rubbing against his thighs and stroking his hair. 

Before the film had even finished, Gerard caved and led Tyler downstairs into his room. Once his feet were on the basement floor, the tense feeling in Gerard’s body just skyrocketed. It wasn’t that he was having second thoughts about giving his lover head in exchange for free food and attention—he just had a feeling Tyler was going to try for more than a blowjob even though he knew it wouldn’t fit.

Gerard didn’t feel like he could trust him.

“H-hey, what if…what if I showed you some of my sketches?” Gerard said, turning to look at Tyler and offering him a smile. 

Tyler wound his arms around Gerard’s waist and Gerard responded by wrapping his arms around Tyler’s shoulders. 

“I thought you were in the mood, baby?” Tyler said in a sneering tone.

Gerard swallowed hard and looked over at his bed, fearful but unwilling to cave in the wake of his anxiety. Tyler, the last time they were together, almost offered to date him. 

Gerard was really just hoping that it would happen again.

“I am… I’m just—you know, I’m really shy,” Gerard said, looking up at his lover anxiously. 

“Shy? You’ve let me see everything before—why get shy now?”

“I just…I was thinking that maybe, remember last time? When you said… Um, you said you liked me…” Gerard looked up at Tyler and saw his irritated expression. 

“Gerard… You told me I wouldn’t want to date you because you’re a train wreck, and you proved yourself to be one pretty well. Now you’re trying to go back on it?”

“I just thought about it,” Gerard whispered, desperate for a small fragment of lasting attention. He didn’t particularly _love_ Tyler deep down, but to get insurance for future dates and attention without having to crawl around shady streets in hopes of picking up new lovers.

“Look—I didn’t come here to date you. I came here for a fuck—what _you_ said you _wanted._ ” Tyler said, scowling at Gerard darkly.

“I d-do… I-I… I do,” Gerard stammered, looking up at Tyler whose eyes had turned dark. Maybe finding an ex-con to make love to wasn’t the best of ideas… Even if he was the cousin of an old acquaintance.

Maybe Tyler hadn’t asked to date him out of actual interest… Maybe Tyler had just wanted a guy who would stick around long enough to ensure that he got regular sex.

“Get on the bed,” Tyler said. “Come on—I bought you food, we watched your movie, now let’s go.”

“Okay,” Gerard whispered, taking a step closer to the bed.

For some reason, in a last ditch effort to put off his fate and garner a little more affection from Tyler, Gerard turned back to look at his desk.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see just…just a few of my sketches?” Gerard asked, looking at Tyler hopefully. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sighed heavily and looked out the kitchen window at Gerard’s house. The SUV was missing from the driveway which meant the family was out, and they’d been gone for hours already. Frank’s dad was out at a business diner, but promised to bring some food home. He’d said he could go visit Gerard and Mikey if he wanted, but it looked as though Gerard weren’t home.

Then, he saw a pizza delivery car pull up and his hopes skyrocketed. 

Gerard’s parents were out, but at least one of their sons was home. He wanted to go over and knock on the door, but he was afraid of how that would look…

The last time he’d seen Gerard he’d almost got him sent to jail for rape or something… He didn’t want to face Gerard’s anger if he was mad. 

He fought his own self-doubts for over an hour before the loneliness and the need to be with Gerard finally overcame him. He left a note for his father on the table and got his keys. 

After locking the door behind him, Frank walked through his yard to Gerard’s front porch. When he knocked on the door, no one answered. He knew that Gerard—or at least Mikey—was home, so he tested the knob and found it unlocked.

When he stepped through the doorway, he went to call out a greeting, but he was startled by a loud bang that left him silent. The noise came from the basement and Frank crept through the kitchen to the white-painted basement door. 

The door was closed, but he heard another slam and pulled the door open. The slam was followed by a loud cry and Frank looked over his shoulder at the front door of the house. Frank didn’t know if Gerard was alone and in a fit or rage or if someone was hurting him.

Part of him wanted to back away from the door and run outside—another part wanted to just stay and listen. If Gerard was just mad or hurt, he would leave, but he had to make sure.

After a few seconds of silence, Frank heard another soft bang and Gerard cried out again. This time, Frank heard another man’s voice coming up from the stairwell. Frank couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was a harsh bark and Frank’s body went numb.

He was completely frozen because that tone…he _knew_ that tone. It wasn’t a usually shout or an order. It was thick with malicious intent. It was a threat, and not just meant for Gerard. It was meant for anyone listening.

Frank backed away from the door and heard another slam followed by the shrill sound of Gerard’s voice rattling off pleading words broken apart by cries. He didn’t want to go down there, but he couldn’t just _leave_ Gerard like this.

Squeezing his eyes closed tightly, Frank took a cautious step back toward the basement door. He was fighting both the numbness and the intense jolts of energy that shook his body to the core as he stepped down first of the basement stairs. The stairwell was dark, but the light at the bottom lit up Gerard’s room like some kind of a stage. From the top of the steps, all Frank could see of the room was a foot of the floor at the foot of the stairs. 

Once the door to the basement had been opened, all of the sounds of scuffling and falling were made so much louder. When Frank, who kept his body pressed firmly against the wall of the stairwell, finally slid down enough steps to get a view of the room, he saw Gerard get shoved against his desk. 

Frank held his breath as he heard Gerard scream out several words of protest before a large man appeared behind him. The man grabbed Gerard by the shoulder and turned him around. Frank finally saw Gerard’s face, reddened with tears and beginning to bruise from blows. He was crying and reaching for something on his desk. 

At first Frank thought it would be a weapon, but then he realized that it was just a sketchpad. It looked as if he were offering it to the man who was tugging on his hair and arms, but the man just took it and used it as a weapon the way Gerard should have.

“I don’t want to see your shitty work!” The man screamed. Frank flinched and backed up a step in the dark stairwell as the man began beating Gerard about the face and head with the side of the sketchpad. He didn’t stop until Gerard started to sink to the floor. He told Gerard to “come here,” and then dragged him out of the way of Frank’s view. 

Frank heard Gerard’s mattress screech and his head or some other hard part of his body slam into the brick wall with a dull but loud thud. Gerard’s pleas and cries faded off into a quiet set of sniffles and labored breaths. The mattress screeched again and Frank turned and hurried back up the stairwell, his heart racing and causing the feeling to rush back to his body painfully. 

He knew what was about to happen and knew he couldn’t stop it. He was tiny, and Gerard was just as helpless as he was. If Gerard had it in him to fight back, maybe the two of him could take the guy down, but Frank couldn’t risk it on his own. 

A loud, agony-stricken scream tore Frank from his thoughts and he grabbed the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. He couldn’t leave Gerard here—the guy was probably going to kill him—and maybe he couldn’t take the guy down on his own, but the cops could. 

Frank called 911, his heart pounding in his chest as Gerard cried out again and again in horrifying pain. The operator picked up the other line and asked Frank to describe the emergency. He didn’t know what to say, he just started to stammer. He choked out the address and shuddered when another of Gerard’s shrill cries turned to immediate silence as if cut off…as if he was being choked. 

“What’s the situation?” The operator asked again.

Frank tried to explain, but all he could do was plead for the police to come. The operator asked if he needed an ambulance—if he was hurt. Somehow, it was as though she couldn’t hear Gerard cries.

The operator told him help was coming, but asked for more and more information that Frank couldn’t bear to muster so he just hung up the phone. He couldn’t bear to see the images of Gerard’s face which were branded in his brain. He was Gerard crying and bruising—saw Gerard the way Gerard would have had to have seen him those many months ago…

When Frank heard the sirens, he heard a loud slam and another one of Gerard’s broken cries. He couldn’t take anymore and fled back out the front door and hid inside his own home. As soon as his front door closed, the cop cars hurried past and slammed to a screeching halt outside Gerard’s place. The ambulance was not long behind them. 

Frank watched from his kitchen window, but kept the light off to keep himself hidden in the shadows. He saw the cops push open the front door and hurry inside. He could hear them barking orders at one another.

The back doors of the ambulance were pulled open and a group of EMTs got out carrying a gurney. Frank’s heart felt like it was about to burst when he saw the gurney rush in moments before the cops exited the house. They had the tall man in cuffs, and he was shouting at them that Gerard was his boyfriend and that it was all a misunderstanding. 

Frank watched the guy get shoved into the cop car, but instead of rushing away with him, the cops stood around talking to each other as their red and blue lights flashed on the faces of every house on the street. 

Frank watched the front door of Gerard’s house waiting to see the gurney come back or see Gerard come out, but it never came. Minutes went by and nothing happened. Two cops went back in and Frank waited… Nothing. 

Was he dead?

As soon as the thought hit him, Frank started crying and he stared out the window intently. In hopes of hearing more of what the cops were mumbling at each other, Frank unlocked the window and pushed it all of the way open. He leaned against the screen and closed his eyes, hoping he could hear more… Pleading for anything.

“Any priors?” 

“Can’t get a name.”

“…called it in?”

“Anonymous. From _this_ address.”

“Hey! What’s the hold up?”

“…resisting medical treatment.”

Resisting? If Gerard was resisting that meant he was okay—right? At least it meant he wasn’t dead.

“Is he a minor?”

“ _Who_ called this in!?”

“We’ve got a car!” Frank pulled back from the window when he saw Gerard’s parents’ SUV pull up outside of the home. They didn’t even pull into the driveway—they just stopped in the middle of the street. 

Frank saw Gerard’s mother nearly fall out of the passenger seat and run up to one of the officers on her porch. Frank heard her screaming to know what was happening, asking if her son was okay and why there were cops everywhere and an ambulance. 

She just kept asking if he was okay, then the cops let her run inside. 

Frank slowly closed the window and sank down to the floor beside his kitchen table. The lights from the ambulance and the two cop cars filled his kitchen with bright, flashing lights and he stared at them as they replaced on another on his wall. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard sat in his hospital bed, barely able to breathe because of the weight on his chest. It felt like the entire world was watching him—crushing him… Cops tried to force him to talk, his parents tried to force him to talk, Mikey came and told him he should’ve been arrested for leaving pizza on the living room coffee table…

It was a bad joke, but he loved his brother for trying to comfort him. It was the only comfort that seemed genuine. Everyone else just told him that he was “okay now” and that “no one else is gonna hurt” him. 

His parents told him that it was okay to press charges against Tyler even though he was the one who invited the “psycho” over. He was told that it was irresponsible to have refused to get in the ambulance since being moved more quickly could have spared him blood loss and a transfusion. 

His mother kept shrieking that at him. “Transfusion! A _transfusion,_ Gerard! You could’ve _died,_ Gerard…” Over and over. 

Everyone was trying to figure out why the 911 call was placed from within the house, but Gerard knew the answer to that even though he wasn’t saying. He’d seen Frank on the stairs… He saw the way that kid was looking at him from the shadows—thinking that he could somehow help when all he was doing was getting him in the way. 

Gerard had been alone for a little over an hour before the doctor came back in. He said something about the injuries, something about not to be embarrassed or ashamed, something about available crisis counseling, something about an STI screen…

Gerard didn’t make any comments. He just tried to ignore the insensitive man and refused to allow him to swab to check for STIs. Tyler didn’t have a disease. He’d used a condom anyway… Gerard always made his lovers use a condom so he _wouldn’t_ ever have to get screened. 

His doctor told him he was being irresponsible, successfully managed to get Gerard to cry again, and then left him to his parents who made it all worse. They said everything horrible to him short of “it’s your fault for calling him over.” That was the one thing they didn’t say, and that wasn’t reassuring…

He was told he could go home after his parents filled out some paperwork, but was encouraged to go talk to the police about making a formal statement. Gerard refused. He said it was consensual and that everyone just misunderstood. His mother yelled at him, his father shouted at him, and Gerard just stared out the wall. Since he was eighteen, it was his decision whether or not to press charges and he chose not to. 

When the doctor wasn’t looking, his mother smacked him. Gerard ignored her. A little blow to the face was nothing in comparison to what his body was already feeling. Her would not allow her to make him feel ashamed.

It was his own fault for calling Tyler over. The one thing his parents wouldn’t tell him was the truth. He called Tyler. He promised Tyler. He tried to go against Tyler. He’d gotten what he’d had coming.

He just wished Tyler hadn’t destroyed his sketchbook by beating him with it until all the pages were bent and crumpled. Not to mention blood spattered now since Tyler threw the book on the bed before he shoved Gerard onto it.

As he slowly slipped into the clothes his mother brought him from home, Gerard started crying again. He _knew_ better than to tell his lovers no… He always said yes that way things like this didn’t happen. If he’d just given Tyler the blowjob he’d wanted, he wouldn’t be here and everyone wouldn’t be pissed off at him…


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen_

Frank stayed away from Gerard for two weeks, but after that he had no choice but to go see him. The five weeks Frank spent with his dad were almost up and he was afraid to leave without seeing Gerard one last time. To make sure he was okay.

He’d stayed by the window, watching Gerard’s house that entire night. He got to see Gerard come home. He could barely even walk and his parents had to help him up the steps into the house. Frank had to explain when his dad got home that there had been some kind of accident, just to explain why there was still a cop car outside of Gerard’s house even after the ambulance left. 

He didn’t want his dad to think Gerard had gotten arrested for something. 

So Frank crept over to Gerard’s house one day while his dad was at work and Gerard’s parents were at work. He knocked on the door and no one answered at first. He waited for about fifteen minutes and then tried again, knocking harder.

This time, Mikey appeared. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken understanding that he was the one who’d called 911, so with nothing more than an all-knowing look Mikey let him in. 

“Gerard’s in his room…” Mikey said, walking into the living room after closing the door. 

Frank wanted to ask Mikey how Gerard was doing before going downstairs, but he already knew what to expect. He’d been there before. Gerard had been there before…

Slowly, Frank crept down the basement stairs to find Gerard sitting at his desk, sketching silently. 

“Gerard?” Frank said softly. Gerard flinched, causing his pencil to fly out of his hand and smack against the wall.

Gerard stayed perfectly still for a moment before turning around and looking at Frank with a dark, vicious look in his eyes.

“ _You_ of all people should know better than to sneak up on me like that,” Gerard hissed.

“Sorry,” Frank said, wringing his hands and looking at Gerard sadly.

Gerard stared at him fixedly and then turned back to his desk.

“Go get my pencil!” Gerard snapped. Frank flinched but quickly ran to pick it up so Gerard wouldn’t have to stand. “Geeze,” Gerard hissed as Frank handed it back to him.

Frank looked at the book and shuddered at the memory of Gerard getting beaten with a similar one. It didn’t seem like much of a weapon, but getting hit with the sharp side of any book would hurt.

“What do you want?” Gerard asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Frank mumbled. There was no point in pretending he hadn’t been there. Everyone but his own father knew he was the one who had called the attack in to the police.

“I’m fine,” Gerard said. “Obviously…”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said. 

“Well get over it,” Gerard snapped. “I saw you on the stairs… What the fuck were you thinking? If Tyler had seen you, he probably would have smashed your fucking head.”

“I… I didn’t know what was happening,” Frank whispered.

“The fuck you didn’t!” Gerard snapped. “What, did you just want to come see what I looked like when I’m getting fucked? What’s the matter with you? Why were you in my house?”

“I just wanted to come see you—I heard you shout and I wanted to see if you were okay or if…if it was actually happening.”

“Well it fucking happened,” Gerard snapped. “What do you want? To rub it in that you watched him fuck me? What do you want?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Frank insisted. “I saw him hit you and…I went upstairs and called 911.”

“Why bother? Why not just join in? It’s not some big mystery that you want the same thing from me…” Gerard muttered. He dropped his pencil and threw his sketchbook onto the floor. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Frank said, biting his lip and watching as Gerard stood up from his desk and crossed the room—standing on the opposite side from his bed.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Gerard snapped. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“Gerard, I…” Frank wanted to tell him again that he _loved_ him. He wouldn’t hurt him. But that didn’t seem to be the words Gerard wanted to hear. They would probably just hurt him worse…

“You _grabbed_ me that night. I just thought you’d want to watch your fucking movie—maybe just be a _friend._ Then you fucking grabbed me! Your dad came after me!”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said. “I was just going to touch you and when you moved…I wasn’t reaching for _that…_ ”

“You’re no different from Tyler or _any_ of the other guys.”

The dark look in Gerard’s eyes cut Frank down to the bone. He didn’t want to think of himself as being the same sort of person as Ronnie or the guy who hurt Gerard, but… What if he was? He did touch Gerard when he knew he didn’t like it. He constantly came to see him even though Gerard repeatedly told him to go away…

What was to stop him from taking it to the next level and making Gerard sleep with him?

Frank didn’t think he was like that though. The sight of Gerard hurt and crying, red-faced and bruised, _haunted_ him. He would never want to be the cause of that.

“Gerard, I wouldn’t hurt you,” Frank said. “I know you don’t believe that, but I wouldn’t. I _mean it._ I really think I _love_ you, and hurting you goes against that.”

“Against that?” Gerard snapped. “ _No one_ loves me. Okay? Not you. Not _him._ No one…”

“That’s not true,” Frank muttered.

“My mom _slapped me_ when I was in the hospital,” Gerard said, looking away to stare at the wall. He was starting to cry and Frank felt horrible for thinking it, but he knew. 

He knew this was his chance. This was the only chance he was ever going to have to prove to Gerard that he really meant it when he said he loved him.

“Why?” Frank asked. “Why would she hit you?”

“I said I wasn’t going to press charges against Tyler. Then…after yelling at me for like thirty minutes, she hit me.” Gerard turned his eyes to look at Frank and tears started falling. 

Gerard had absolutely no one else to turn to now. Frank was surprised that it didn’t make him feel happy—he just felt bad for him. He knew Gerard didn’t love him in return, but he thought that if he could support him now, maybe Gerard would just learn to like him. 

“Did she say she was sorry?” Frank asked. 

Gerard shrugged and sank down to the floor. 

“She said… Yeah, she said she was all worked up or whatever, but the last thing I needed after getting beat with my own sketchbook was to get slapped by my mom.”

“That’s really horrible,” Frank whispered. 

“They had to like…stitch me back together. And she slapped me.”

“That’s horrible,” Frank repeated, not knowing what else to say to soothe him.

“They…they said I’d be fine in a few weeks. Still hurts, but… I mean, it’s the _worst_ I’ve had, but it’s not…horrible.” Gerard picked up his sketchpad and pencil and began working on a new drawing. 

“It _is_ horrible,” Frank said. 

“Well, I’m over it, so… Whatever.”

“Gerard… What are you going to do?”

“When?” Gerard asked, looking up from his sketchpad. 

“I don’t know…” Frank said, looking down at the floor. 

“You should invite me over for dinner so my mom stops bitching at me about not having friends,” Gerard said softly.

“Okay,” Frank said, not letting any of his excitement come through in his voice. Gerard was probably just desperate to get out of his room or out from under his parents, but Frank didn’t care. Time with Gerard was time with Gerard. Frank wasn’t about to mess it up.

“I guess… I guess weird kids like us have to stick together whether we like it or not. No one else is going to like us anyway.”

“I don’t have friends either,” Frank mumbled, just so Gerard wouldn’t feel so alone.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to college soon anyway. If I don’t get accepted then I’ll just run away. I’ve gotta get out of here…” Gerard set his sketchbook down again and sighed heavily. “My dad hates me.”

“My dad doesn’t like me anymore,” Frank echoed. 

“Your dad will get over it. They always act weird after they find out what’s happening. They look at you like you’re _diseased_ or like…if they touch you they’re going to get that awful, nasty pain-stain on their hands. Eventually they get over it, but it never goes back to the way it was.”

“Would it have been better if I’d just…left that night?” Frank asked. Gerard was quiet for a long time.

“Sometimes I think so,” Gerard murmured. “I would’ve probably bled to death. Death is nice… But it would’ve been horrible for my mom to have found me like that. What a disgusting way to go.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Frank mumbled.

“What is it about me you won’t let go of?” Gerard asked, looking at Frank intensely as he grabbed his sketchpad up off the floor again. It was like he was trying to look through him, pick through his brain or read his thoughts. “You like to act like…like I’m _you._ But I’m not. Kid, after _I_ got attacked, I started drinking, I started smoking and snorting things. I got arrested for possession when I should’ve been arrested for attempted homicide—the cops fuckin’ found me beating a guy who just happened to _look_ like my attacker. You’ve kept it together—what do you want with me?”

“Gerard, I’m only okay because I talk to you. You’re the only friend I have… Ronnie probably would’ve killed me if it weren’t for you.”

“He wasn’t going to kill you. You were his plaything. If you die, he’s on the run for rape and murder—plus he loses the thrill of keeping you petrified of every bump in the fuckin’ night…” Gerard sketched a few heavy lines in his sketchpad and tossed the book aside once more.

“Where are you going to college?” Frank asked, feeling a void form in his chest as it sank in that his friend wasn’t going to be around anymore. Maybe for a few weeks in the summer, but not a weekend in between probably…

“The city. It’s the only place nearby.”

“Are you going to live in the dorms?”

“I might,” Gerard mumbled. “I want to—to get out of this house. My dad hates me. I just want to go away.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard got his wish, and Frank’s heart remained broken for months. His father’s house was nothing more than a bleak, boring place for him now. Sometimes Gerard came home—he had a car of his own that Frank learned to search for when he was out—but he was always too busy doing family activities or sleeping to see Frank. 

Life became one mundane, dreary routine. Get up, go to a pretentious private school, go home, do homework, stare at walls, go to bed, have nightmares, repeat. Sometimes he’d go to his dad’s house, sometimes he’d refuse and stay home. 

Unintentionally, he began to cut his father and most other men out of his life. He wouldn’t talk to male teachers. Wouldn’t work with male tutors. Wouldn’t look the headmaster in the eye when he was called into his office. 

Sometimes the sisters who taught his classes would try to get him to work in groups with the other male students and he’d just refuse to talk. A lot of the time he would write Gerard’s name in his notebook in his own secret code or in scripted font so ornate it was completely illegible. 

Gerard became less of a person and more of an idea. Instead of God, Frank had Gerard now. To have Gerard’s love was to find salvation. 

After months and months of loneliness and sad holidays, summer finally came again and, as he’d been dreaming for months, Gerard came home for break.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard made it over nine months without having to see Frank, and in that time his mind was almost completely off of the horrors that surrounded the kid. Once he was home, though, for the summer, he felt that boy in every single beam of steamy summer sunlight. He knew he couldn’t avoid Frank, so he didn’t even try.

The boy kept his distance for the first two days he was at his father’s house, but only out of shyness. Of course, he couldn’t stay away for long and was at Gerard’s door at three o’clock the third day of summer break. 

When Gerard heard the knock on the door, he went upstairs to answer. Mikey was in a mood and if he answered the door he was probably going to give Frank an earful about stalking and how to be less of a freak.

“Figured you’d be here,” Gerard said when he opened the door. He let Frank into the kitchen and immediately started a fresh pot of coffee even though he didn’t need the extra caffeine. 

“Do you want me to go?” Frank asked, a certain cheekiness in his tone. He had to be going on fifteen or so—if Gerard remembered right, maybe older…—and he was starting to look mean. 

“No… I could use the company. Home life is boring after being at college.”

“Wow. For once you’re not trying to run me out the door,” Frank said. His tone was definitely harsh.

“Meh… I started talking to the university’s counselor. Workin’ out my shit. On all sorts of prescriptions. Can’t have any booze though or I’ll probably die.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Frank asked. Gerard turned to look at him sharply. The kid was acting weird. 

“No… Not since… I was _stitched back together,_ ” Gerard snapped. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you!?”

“No,” Frank said, looking slightly ashamed. 

“What do you want?” Gerard asked, no longer so willing to play the pliant host with this kid. 

“Obviously I wanted to come see you,” Frank said.

“So you could…what?” Gerard asked, pouring himself a cup of hot coffee. “Harass me about my love life? Profess your undying love for me?”

“That’s not fair,” Frank mumbled.

“It’s what you do every time you’re here,” Gerard mumbled. “I don’t know what you want. You obviously don’t want to just hang out.”

“You’re the only friend I have,” Frank mumbled. “Forgive me if I sound… _mean._ I haven’t exactly had anyone to talk to in a year.”

“You _choose_ not to talk to people. You need to… Look, I know what it’s like, okay? You’re not like the other kids and, Christ. You’re in a Catholic school. You don’t like the girls and you don’t trust the men. Your parents tell you that you’re just ‘confused’ and you don’t know what you want—and that the only reason you have the thoughts you do is because of what happened…”

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled. 

“Stop alienating yourself. You don’t have to introduce yourself as ‘Frank the Fag,’ you know? Just make some friends. Get out of your house—watch something other than _Cats._ ”

“I _always_ watch _Cats,_ ” Frank mumbled, looking down at the floor. 

“Why do you love that play so much? It’s not that good…”

“Because it helps me relax,” Frank mumbled.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Gerard asked, holing up an empty mug.

“Sure,” Frank said, starting to act a little less assertive when he realized it didn’t work towards his goals. Gerard wasn’t sure if the kid was going to try to bully him into doing something or if he thought he would be attracted to the aggression. 

“Are you still in the Catholic school?” Gerard asked.

“The high school now,” Frank mumbled, but it’s all the same.

“And _still_ jailbait, so stop coming around me,” Gerard mumbled.

“Are you saying if I were older you’d consider?”

“No,” Gerard said quickly, shaking his head. “Sorry. I mean…Frank, why don’t you try to meet some guys your own age? I’m not saying sleep with them, although that’s all some of ‘em are going to want, but meet someone other than me. I’m probably the worst you could find.”

“Worse than Ronnie? Worse than…than the guy who beat you that night?” Frank snapped.

“No,” Gerard said with a sigh. That was when he realized that getting rid of Frank would never be that easy. He was like a disease he was going to have to learn to live with…or like an annoying stray cat.

“Gerard, I really mean it when I say I love you.” Frank was looking at him like a kicked dog. What did he expect Gerard to say? That he loved him too? That they were going to run away together and live in New York as a young, happy, gay couple?

What the hell did he _want?_

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Gerard mumbled.

“I _love_ you,” Frank repeated, more earnestly.

“Frank. Come on.” Gerard sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. “You like me because I told you about…what was happening and I share a really similar experience, but that’s not love—”

“Gerard! It’s not just that! I think you’re _perfect!_ You’re good at art, and you’re really talented and smart and…you’re nice to me when you don’t have to be. Even you’re trying to be mean, you’re never cruel. You’re the only friend I have.”

“And that’s why you _think_ you love me,” Gerard said, turning away from him and shaking his head. This couldn’t be happening now. He didn’t have the patience for this.

“I don’t think I do—I just do, okay? You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever _dream_ about that’s good… If it’s not Ronnie, it’s you,” Frank said, starting to cry. Gerard groaned and leaned back against the counter. “Gerard. I really, really do love you. If you asked me to do anything, I would. You’re the only person I love now. You’re all I have.”

“You have your parents. Even if they act weird.”

“Gerard, what can I do to prove it?” The way Frank looked at him made Gerard nervous. It wasn’t just the desperation, it was the implications. 

“Nothing!” Gerard snapped. “Frank, we’re not dating, and we’re not _going to._ ”

It was the wrong thing to say. Because that was when Frank jumped him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Sixteen_

Frank felt the words like a stab in the gut.

“We’re not dating and we’re not _going to._ ”

All he wanted in the world was to be with Gerard. To support Gerard. To love Gerard. To show Gerard what real, honest, desperate affection was. To have him see that there was a difference between love and lust. Because what Frank felt was _love._ A crushing, unbearable love…

To hear that he couldn’t even have a chance at giving that affection to Gerard was more painful than anything. It was a cruel, almost violent phrase—they could never date.

Why?

Why was Gerard doing this to him? Couldn’t he see how real his love was? Didn’t he know that it wasn’t just an attraction or an obsession?—it was a fucking disease! 

Frank wanted to say that to Gerard—to explain his love and affection and dedication—but words failed him. He couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t said before. He had to rely on something else. Some _action._ Something powerful, but not painful. Not terrifying or worrying. 

He loved Gerard. He just wanted Gerard to love him, too. Even if he was ‘jailbait’ and they couldn’t be together.

Without thinking, Frank relied on the only instinct he had involving love combined with touch—and it wasn’t his fault that that instinct was one of force.

Frank lunged forward, grabbing both sides of Gerard’s face gently between his hands. He pressed their lips together and closed his eyes tightly, feeling Gerard try to back away but trapped. 

Gerard made a little noise of terror, and while his lips were parted Frank slid his tongue inside. He didn’t really know what to do…but he tried. 

He felt when Gerard raised his hands and tried to push him back, but Frank just lowered his hands to wrap around Gerard’s waist and began sucking on Gerard’s bottom lip. Gerard tried pushing him away by his hips, but Frank whimpered and tried to make the kiss more intense.

It didn’t work when Gerard tried to push him away. Desperately, Frank tried pawing at his sides and turning his deeper kiss into a series of soft and sloppy kisses. He tried running a hand through Gerard’s hair, tried pressing their hips together, tried caressing the sides of his neck…Gerard just stayed stiff and oppositional. 

Frank finally broke away and took a step back, looking up at Gerard in defeat and feeling like he might cry. 

“I just love you,” he whimpered, hating how weak and pathetic he was. It was no wonder Gerard hated him… There was nothing in his entire person that said ‘attractive.’ He just screamed ‘damaged’ and ‘broken.’ Of course Gerard didn’t want him… No one would.

Gerard was panting and staring at him—staring through him. His eyes were out of focus, and his lips were parted and still covered in spit that wasn’t his own. He didn’t even move to wipe it away. He was stunned…

Frank was trying to get his own body to respond and let him run away. Nothing Gerard couple possibly say when he regained composure would be pleasant. He’d probably say something about rapists and something about how disgusted he was…

When Gerard’s eyes finally moved from staring at the floor, they locked with Frank’s but remained vacant.

“What would you possibly get out of dating me?” Gerard asked, sounding shaken and choked.

“I love you,” was all Frank could manage to say before his voice cracked.

“I’m a train wreck. You’d be a therapist, not a boyfriend.” Gerard crossed his arms over his shoulders and sighed heavily. 

Frank stared at him pleadingly. Desperate for him to understand what he was feeling. Didn’t he ever fall in love before? Didn’t he know what it felt like to be suffocating and having the only promise of oxygen taken away? Because that what it felt like… It really felt horrible.

“I don’t care,” Frank whimpered. “I just want to be with you.”

“I’m at college!” Gerard said, sounding desperate instead of mad. “You’ll never see me—you’re only here on weekends and the summertime. What kind of relationship is that? After…after what you went through, you need… _stability._ I can’t offer that…”

“Yes you can,” Frank pleaded. He _knew_ Gerard would never date him, but he was desperate… He just wanted a chance so badly. “You’re all ever think about anyway—everything. All day. I just… I think about you and I have dreams about you… Every day.” Frank stared up at him, begging with his eyes and wringing his hands together uselessly. 

“Why?” Gerard asked, shaking his head. He really couldn’t see how perfect and wonderful he was.

“I don’t know,” Frank said, looking away toward the door and trying to get himself to run away. He was making everything worse. It was all over… He’d ruined it. “You’re perfect. You’re everything…”

“You’re not well, kid,” Gerard mumbled.

“A person doesn’t have to be crazy to love you!” Frank cried. “You’re smart and you’re good looking and…and you _know_ things.”

“Kid…”

“You…you could do a lot worse than have someone who loves you,” Frank murmured. He chanced a glance at Gerard’s face and saw that he had his face covered with his hands.

“I know,” Gerard groaned. “I would get _arrested_ if I touched you. Don’t you realize that? Your dad wouldn’t let me anywhere near you—Hell, if anyone saw what you just did to me, I could get arrested.”

“No one would have to know…”

“Then there’s no point in having a relationship,” Gerard snapped. “I’m not going to be a dirty little secret for someone, okay? _I_ deserve more than that. _You_ deserve more than that—”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Frank cried. It didn’t matter how repetitive it was. Gerard didn’t seem to understand. Love wasn’t rational. It was crazy and powerful and overbearing. It wasn’t his fault that he was in love with Gerard, and it wasn’t going away. It wasn’t infatuation. It wasn’t a crush… “Gerard, I don’t care about what I deserve—I want you. I want to be with you.”

“I’d never see you,” Gerard insisted. “Don’t you understand?”

“Don’t you get it—I don’t care! I could call you! You could tell me when you’re home. I’d come see you… We wouldn’t have to _do_ anything.”

“That’s what relationships are for…” Gerard mumbled.

“But…” Frank tried to keep himself under control. He didn’t want to burst out sobbing or collapse in tears, but he felt his heart breaking even though he’d known that nothing would change… “But I love you,” he said, as if it meant anything. 

As if that could change anything…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard felt trapped, and not just because he’d been forcibly kissed by a high school freshman…

This kid was _obsessed,_ and it was hurting him how bad his obsession really was. He needed a psychologist… He needed help. 

He kept throwing the words “I love you” around like it was supposed to mean something. Gerard didn’t feel the same. He didn’t _hate_ the kid or wish any ill-will on him. He was cute and weird in a sort of adorable way, but he was just a kid. Above that, he was a victim. Gerard hated himself for thinking ‘he’s just confused because of what happened to him,’ because that was the worst thing to think. Just because Frank was raped didn’t mean he had to have his sexuality or his feelings criticized or judged. 

Gerard found himself thinking ‘what could it hurt?’ What if…

What _if_ he just played along. Gave the kid his cell phone number, gave him his school address so he could write letters? 

But why would he let himself be that cruel? It would just encourage Frank’s feelings and break his heart worse in the end…

Gerard knew better than to let his thoughts go there… To assume he’d actually develop feelings for the kid if he got to know him beyond rape and _Cats._

It was bad to think he would like him better if he didn’t cry every time he came over. If he laughed and smiled instead, and talked about something other than rape and that stupid musical.

Gerard hated himself. He _hated_ himself…

“F-fine,” he said, horrified that the word came out of his mouth.

“What?” Immediately, Frank’s face lit up, even though his underlying fear and desperation still showed through. 

Gerard had a chance to go back on it, to fix it. But he couldn’t do it. He _hated_ himself, and Frank even told him—he could do a lot worse than have a person to love him…

“I said fine,” Gerard mumbled. “But…If you find someone else, or if…if _I_ find someone else, then it’s over. And…no more of _that,_ ” Gerard said, gesturing to his mouth and his waist and what was below.

“Really?” Frank asked. He looked untrusting. Like he knew Gerard was saying it to get him to go away.

“Yeah. Just…” Gerard sighed heavily and went over to the fridge to grab a grocery list page off of the magnetized post-it set and scrounged around a junk drawer for a pen. With a sigh of self-loathing and building anxiety, Gerard wrote down his cell phone number and school address, making sure to get it all correct. If a number was wrong, the kid would take it personally and probably end up committing suicide.

As soon as the thought hit him, Gerard was almost certain that this would end with one or the other of them dead by their own hand…

And there was nothing he could do.

“Here,” he said, handing the note to Frank. “I’ll…I’ll get you my class schedule. In college classes run later than your schooling sometimes so…you’ll know when to call. I also work so…I’ll give you that schedule. Write whenever. I check my mail once a week.”

“Really?” Frank said, staring at him dumbfounded and almost terrified. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, trying to make himself smile but unable to. It felt wrong. It was all _wrong._ He was leading this kid on… He wanted to give him a chance, but he knew there was no initial attraction. That was how relationships were supposed to be built—crush, attraction, deeper feelings, compatible lifestyles, love… Not love, obligation, attempts to create attraction.

At least the kid was cute… And it wasn’t like he was unmanageable. He was smart—in his own ways. He was obviously an honest kid and let Gerard know what he was feeling which was better than a person who tried to hide everything. Fears of cheating didn’t really matter in the pseudo-relationship they were creating… Gerard just had to hope for something to make him love the kid back in order to keep from breaking his heart. 

“Really?” Frank said again. Gerard cringed slightly when the tears started rolling down the kid’s cheeks. His kid _boyfriend’s_ cheeks…

“Yes,” Gerard repeated. “But…first, that kiss… We gotta fix that, come here.” Gerard shook his head and then gave in. He grabbed Frank’s hands and pulled him close. He placed his hands on Frank’s hips and leaned down to kiss him softly.

Frank’s energy came through—he was practically glowing with happiness. Gerard ran his tongue along Frank’s bottom lip and the kid opened his mouth slowly—not really sure what to do. Thankfully, Ronnie hadn’t made him learn how to kiss. 

Gerard brushed his tongue against Frank’s and could’ve laughed when he felt all of that positive energy turn into embarrassment. Frank didn’t know what to do with his tongue, but Gerard was relieved that he preferred to use the less-is-more technique to figure it out instead of shoving his tongue down his throat. 

Eventually, Frank started to get the hang of it and sucked on Gerard’s tongue softly. Gerard was actually surprised when Frank was the one to break it off. 

“I…” Frank stared at him like he was frightened. Like a deer in headlights. “I…”

“You want some lunch?” Gerard asked, turning back to the fridge and opening the door. There were leftovers from the night before, but it had meat. The kid… _Frank_ was a vegetarian, right?

Yeah, Gerard kind of remembered that.

“Not…Not hungry,” Frank mumbled. Gerard looked over at him and knew that he understood what was happening to him. Frank knew he was being nothing more than test driven like a used car… There was no respect in their minutes-old relationship at all.

“Do you want to watch tv?” Gerard asked, closing the fridge and shrugging. He didn’t know what to do now… To be honest, he hadn’t dated anyone…ever. He just had occasional lovers and one-night-stands.

“I don’t know,” Frank said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he might start trembling. Gerard really didn’t know what to do with him.

“I was going to go sketch…you should draw with me. Do you…do you like art at all? It’s like the only thing in my life that makes sense.” Gerard figured if this had a chance of working out, he would have to open up, too. He couldn’t put it all on Frank.

“I can…try to draw. I don’t do a lot…”

“Come draw with me. I’ve got lots of sketchpads. I’ll give you one—come on.” Frank didn’t move when Gerard started walking, so Gerard took his hand and led him downstairs to the basement. 

For a moment, he was afraid Frank would push him down the stairs because he started resisting. Then Gerard saw it in his face. He was reliving that night over a year ago…he was seeing the attack that Gerard had almost pushed from his memory.

“Don’t worry,” Gerard said in the softest tone his could manage. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

“It was horrible to see that,” Frank whispered, lowering his face and moving his hand to grip Gerard’s upper arm.

“I know,” Gerard whispered, leaning to kiss Frank’s cheek. “It’s over now. Come on.” He led him down the rest of the steps and let Frank go to explore his room while he sifted through his things looking for a sketchbook. 

Frank sat down on his bed and sniffed his pillow when he didn’t think Gerard was looking. It had to smell horrible, but Frank acted like he couldn’t get enough. He was savoring it…

He really was obsessed.

Gerard found his sketchpad and a spare one for Frank and grabbed them a pack of colored pencils. He got charcoals for himself and handed Frank a mechanical pencil—it wasn’t the best for drawing, but it meant he could erase and that was more comfortable for someone just practicing to draw. Permanent marks hurt confidence…

“What do you want to draw?” Gerard asked, sitting next to Frank and getting comfortable. 

“I don’t know,” Frank said. He spoke like a kid in a dream—all dazed and confused. 

“I can draw lots of things,” Gerard said. “I could teach you. What do you like?”

“I…I like dogs,” Frank said, shrugging and looking at Gerard nervously.

“So let’s draw a dog,” Gerard said, smiling and reaching out to rub Frank’s shoulder. If the relationship were to grow, he would have to make them into real friends first. 

Slowly, Gerard began giving Frank some techniques and help drawing a chubby little pug. Frank focused more on realism while Gerard spent more time making his in the comic style. His dog ended up looking like it was on crack—Frank’s looked a little melted. 

When Frank said it was time to leave, Gerard insisted that he take the dog sketch with him, and asked to keep Frank’s drawing. Frank tried to play it down saying his was horrible, but Gerard just told him to shut up. 

As Frank was about to start up the steps, Gerard stopped him again and grabbed an old, over-sized sweater from the back of his closet and handed it to him.

“Here—for in the winter time…or bed or whatever,” he said. He’d learned about the boyfriend sweater from the stereotypical teenager movies, but he had a feeling Frank would like it. If Frank liked his smell, he was going to need a little trophy to comfort him in his absence. 

Frank held the sweater like it was million dollar bill. He gave Gerard an incredibly too-tight hug before he left the house and Gerard was only able to return it with half as much vigor. 

Once Frank was gone, Gerard leaned against the doorframe and sighed heavily. Mikey appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at him critically. 

“Don’t judge me,” Gerard mumbled.

“If his dad finds out even _Mom_ isn’t going to be able to save you,” Mikey said, going to the fridge and taking out the leftovers.

“He’s not going to tell anyone—it took him a year to tell anyone he was getting raped.”

“That’s something he was ashamed of, though. He’s not ashamed of you. With your luck and his attitude, he’s going to want to parade you.”

“I’ll dump him if he does,” Gerard said. “I’m not going to jail because I want him to feel better.”

“You’re dating him because you want him to _feel better?_ ” Mikey asked, looking at him skeptically. “That’s bad.”

“I know…”

“You’re gonna get him killed.”

“No I’m not,” Gerard mumbled, even though he was afraid that was a real possibility. 

“Do you even like him?”

“I don’t even _know_ him,” Gerard mumbled. 

“This is gonna bad, isn’t it?” Mikey asked as he dished some of the food onto a plate and shoved it in the microwave. 

“I hope not…”

“Guess that means you like him a little bit. “

“I _want_ to like him…”

“That’s just gonna put pressure on you and make you screw it up if you ever _do_ start liking him.”

“Since when are you the dating expert?” Gerard muttered.

“Um… Hello, I was made to take Relationship Development class last year. I know how to talk to girls _and_ do teamwork.”

“That class sounds gay.”

“You’re gay.”

“I know,” Gerard said, shrugging. 

“Don’t, like, sleep with him though. I don’t want to know you as my pedo-brother.”

“I’m _not_ risking jail time for this kid. As long as I don’t sleep with him, we’re safe. Unorthodox, but safe…”

“Really though. Don’t let him trick you into sleeping with him. He’ll blackmail the shit out of you if you try to break up.”

Gerard sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. This was going to turn into the stuff of his worst nightmares…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sat in his bed, holding Gerard's sweater to his chest and trying to decide whether to cry, cheer, or just simply stop breathing. He was excited, but nervous. He was almost positive that the only reason Gerard agreed to date him was so to shut him up.

Still, he’d give him his phone number, his school address, his sweater and the sketch! It was the best day of Frank’s entire life. It was horrible that he couldn’t share it…but he didn’t have anyone to share it with anyway. His parents wouldn’t want to hear even if it was a normal relationship and he didn’t have any friends.

Frank cuddled the sweater and started to cry. He didn’t care if it was because he was sad or scared or happy. He was overwhelmed. 

He laid on his side and buried his face in the shirt. It was so comforting—it was almost as good as a real hug just to wrap up in those sleeves. 

He really hadn’t meant to fall asleep…

When he woke up, his dad was in his room.

“What, are you sick?” His dad asked. Frank sat up and quickly tried to hide the sweater. The action just drew his father’s suspicions. “What’s that?”

“My sweater,” Frank said quickly, staring at his father and trying to make his face show some sort of composure. 

“It’s the middle of summer, why do you need a sweater?”

Frank shook his head quickly, trying to think of an excuse but not coming up with anything.

“Why do you need a sweater?” His father pressed, becoming suspicious. 

“Too hot for a blanket but I was cold,” Frank said, swallowing hard. He just _got_ the sweater. He couldn’t let his dad take it away.

“I was coming to tell you dinner was done. How long have you been sleeping?”

“I-I don’t know,” Frank said, slowly getting up from the bed. He hoped his father wouldn’t see Gerard’s sketch on his dresser… He didn’t mean to fall asleep, he wanted to keep it hidden and safe. “What time is it?”

“It’s six o’clock.”

“Oh… Maybe I am sick,” Frank mumbled. “I think I fell asleep around four…”

“I’d say the heat got to you but you’re wrapped up in a sweater.”

Yeah, a sweater that smelled like Gerard and practically had Gerard written all over it.

“I’m really thirsty,” Frank mumbled. “I have a headache.” He got out of the bed and made a point to _absentmindedly_ throw his blankets over the sweater. 

He wanted to cry he was so afraid his dad was going to take it. It must’ve shown on his face because his dad looked him over closely. 

“What did you do today?” His father asked as he followed him out of the bedroom.

Frank swallowed hard and tried to think of a way out of this trouble. His dad was going to find out and the only option he had was to lie and make the lie so uncomfortable his father would let it go.

“What did you get into today?” His father asked again.

“I had bad dreams about Ronnie,” Frank said, going quickly down the stairs and sitting down at the kitchen table heavily. He tried to make himself look wounded instead of scared, but it didn’t really work.

His father didn’t say anything, but he was reading him like a book.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter Seventeen_

Donna was getting ready to close up her house for the evening. It was only a little past ten, but both of her boys were in their respective rooms and her husband was asleep on the couch. (She was half tempted to wake him, but the allure of having the bed upstairs all to herself for a few hours was far more powerful.) So after turning off the living room light and making sure all the windows and doors were closed and locked, Donna prepared to turn off the kitchen light and go upstairs.

Just as her hand reached the switch, there was a sharp knock on the front door which set her teeth on edge. She grabbed the telephone off the counter and prepared to dial 911immediately if someone was attempting break in. Their neighborhood was poor, but not as crime-ridden as one would think. However, a late night, unannounced visitor was cause for alarm.

Donna careful peeked past the curtain covering the glass window of the door and saw shadow of a man outside on the porch. She flipped on the outside light and let out a sigh of relief—and yet still a huff of irritation—when she recognized it as her less-than-likable neighbor from next door.

Even after the man apologized for harassing Gerard, Donna never forgave him. He made a point to insult where he could when he was the one at fault for what happened to Frank. If he’d paid his son any attention, he would’ve known something was wrong before the kid had to turn to her Gerard. 

“What do you want this time?” Donna asked, opening the door just a crack so she could peer out at her neighbor. He was holding a sweater and a piece of paper in his hand, and looked irritated yet somewhat afraid. 

“Tell your son he needs to keep his hands off of Frank,” the man said, holding out the sweater to Donna who opened the door just enough to take it. When the slip of paper was thrust into her hand as well, she noticed that it was Gerard’s handwriting…with his phone number and school address. 

She recognized the ripped up hoodie—and understood it well—but she looked it over with scrutiny and then handed it back.

“This is Gerard’s,” she said, flashing the piece of paper. “But that’s not—I wouldn’t let my son wear rags like that. It’s not even his size—it’s too small for him.”

Frank’s father took the sweater back and stared at in confusion. It was obvious he didn’t recognize it as something his own son owned, but a plain black sweatshirt really wasn’t all that memorable. It was to Donna because she’d tried to throw it away once only to have Gerard dig it back out of the trash. He at least stopped wearing it out, but it had existed on the floor of his closet for years—being worn at random when Gerard got depressed. 

“I don’t see what you have a problem with,” Donna said, glaring at Frank’s father bitterly. “Your son doesn’t have any friends — _no_ friends at all. And when my son reaches out to him, gives him a number to call if he has a bad day, gives him an address to write to, you go out of your way just to crush him.”

“He doesn’t need to be talking to _anyone_ like your son,” Frank Sr. said. Donna rolled her eyes and shoved the paper back into his hands. 

“How about I call your ex-wife and tell her what a good job you’re doing to alienating her kid. Your boy is depressed—I can see it when he walks up the driveway of your house. I’ve seen what that feeling does to kids, you know? It’s not pretty. So if you want to come home and find your son dead, hanging from his ceiling fan, by all means, take away the only person he has to talk to. Frank’s not going to come to you. He’s going to go to someone who ‘understands.’ And let me tell you something. _My son_ understands. Now get _off_ of my property.”

Without letting the man say any more, Donna closed the door and locked it and switched off both the kitchen and outside lights. She would talk to Gerard about being more secretive with his life in the morning. 

Sometimes she felt like her son was half stupid. Giving a kid all that information… He was going to get himself put in jail if he wasn’t more careful. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank stopped talking to his dad after he’d tried to take Gerard’s sweater away. He didn’t know what Gerard’s mom said to him that made him give it and Gerard’s school address back, but he was thankful. His dad confronted him at dinner and then took both the paper and the sweater away from him, saying he couldn’t have them and that he needed to stay away from Gerard—because Gerard was nothing but a drug-addicted, homosexual convict. It didn’t matter to him that Gerard recovered from addiction or if he’d only been in juvie for possession. He hated Gerard, and Frank really didn’t find it fair.

His dad made no attempts to get to know him better, and Frank was so sick of hearing his only friend being badmouthed. He swore he’d never forgive his father for trying to take away the one thing that made him happy.

Never.

The next day, when his father was at work, Frank crept back over to the Way house and knocked on the front door. When the door swung open and Gerard’s mother appeared, Frank was half tempted to turn and run.

In fact, the only thing that kept him grounded was the petrifying fear that shot down his spine the moment he saw her. He couldn’t run. He was frozen.

“I had a feeling you’d come over here today,” Donna said, looking down at Frank with critical eyes.

Frank couldn’t say anything to her. All he could do was stand and stare. This was _not_ what he expected, and he was certain she wasn’t happy to see him after his father had come to yell at her about Gerard again…

“Are you going to say anything?” She asked. Frank stared at her, no more than thoughts of terror echoing around in his brain. 

There was no way Gerard was going to want to see him now… Not now that they were in trouble. He’d just gotten Gerard to accept his feelings—now it was all going to be ruined. He’d ruined _everything!_

“Well, come in,” Donna said, taking a step back and gesturing Frank inside. He stood on the porch and stared at her. He still wanted to turn and run away.

He didn’t know where he’d go because he obviously wasn’t going to go back to his dad’s. Maybe he’d just run until he reached the ocean or a deep pond and drown himself, or maybe he’d just run out into the middle of the highway. If Ronnie wasn’t in prison and still had his apartment, Frank would’ve run _there._

He’d rather be anywhere but here… Anywhere but where they could get him.

“Frank… Come on now. I’m not gonna bite you,” Donna said. She rolled her eyes at him and walked away into the kitchen. She acted like he shouldn’t be afraid of her, but she obviously didn’t understand.

He wanted to see _Gerard._ He just wanted to go hide with Gerard… 

Carefully, Frank stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. He looked at Donna as if expecting a blow, wondering if he made himself look more vulnerable if it would keep him safe from whatever anger she had in her. Though he wanted to say that his father was crazy and it wasn’t fair, he knew better than to start a fight. Gerard wouldn’t want to date him if he thought he was pushy and mean…

“You can go talk to Gerard, Frank,” Donna said, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Frank stared at her and slowly made his way to the basement door. If she didn’t want to confront him, why had she stayed home from work? She didn’t look sick… 

When he got down the basement stairs, Gerard was sitting at his desk sketching something with large headphones on over his ears. Frank didn’t know how to get his attention, and he was afraid that if he so much as coughed loudly, Gerard would jump and mess up his picture. 

Frank watched him, chewing his lip and lowering his head. He wanted to wait for Gerard to take off his headphones or set down his pen, but after ten minutes it still hadn’t happened. Finally, Frank gave in and crept into Gerard’s line of view, going over to his bed and sitting down slowly. 

Gerard took notice of him almost instantly, but when he jerked in surprise, he tossed his pen up instead of scratching the page. Frank had never felt so relieved to see a pen go rolling across the floor…

“Oh—Hey… When did you get here?” Gerard asked, taking off his headphone and turning off his music. 

“Um…a few minutes ago?” Frank said, starting to tremble under Gerard’s gaze. After all the trouble his father had to have caused, there was no way Gerard was going to let their relationship go on any longer.

“Oh,” Gerard said. He turned away from his desk to face Frank, and had a serious expression that almost made Frank start to cry. 

Even if they broke up—even if they’d only been ‘together’ for a day—Frank was _not_ giving the sweater back. Never ever, ever.

“My mom…wants me to talk to you,” Gerard said, looking as uncomfortable as Frank felt. 

“I didn’t tell my dad anything,” Frank whispered, desperate for Gerard to know that he hadn’t been trying to show their relationship off. “He just found the sweater and—”

“I don’t care,” Gerard said, shrugging. “My mom just wants me to tell you that we can’t—you and I can’t… _do_ anything, you know? Because you’re underage, and I’m… You know…” Gerard cleared his throat and looked away at the floor.

“I know,” Frank said. “I don’t want that—I just…”

“You just want to be with me. I know. I get it,” Gerard said. He looked so miserable and it broke Frank’s heart. It was _his_ fault Gerard was sad. Frank felt like a parasite… Something that wanted nourishment and got it by killing off its host. Their relationship was a sham. Gerard did it to shut him up.

It hurt more than anything in the world. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered. He pulled Gerard’s blanket over his lap and started picking at it. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Gerard said softly. Even though his tone was gentle, it just made Frank feel worse. 

“You don’t even like me,” Frank said. He kept pulling at the blanket and tugging more and more of the fabric into his hands until all of it was in a ball in his lap. 

“I like you,” Gerard said. He was giving Frank an odd look, as if afraid of something, but didn’t say anything more. Gerard just looked down at the blanket and stayed quiet.

Frank wanted to say that Gerard didn’t like him the same way Frank loved him, but he didn’t want to sound pathetic. Gerard wasn’t going to be attracted to weakness… 

He slid his hand in and out of the folds in the blanket until his fingers slid into something cold and wet and sticky…

Frank felt his face go wide with shock, and the moment Gerard saw him he started stammering and got up from his desk. He grabbed the blanket out of Frank’s hands and tossed it across the room, looking flustered and embarrassed.

“Why do you always have to mess with my bed!?” Gerard yelled. He looked more embarrassed than angry, and Frank looked down at his fingers which were now wet. 

He didn’t know whether to be disgusted or excited… Or a little bit of the both. 

“Wipe off your hand, please!” Gerard cried, throwing up his arms in annoyance. Frank looked up at him almost dazedly. He didn’t know why it surprised him so much. Maybe it was because the patch of cum was still fresh…maybe it was because it was Gerard’s and he couldn’t stop his brain from thinking up all of the ways it could’ve gotten there. “Seriously!” Gerard yelled. 

Frank wiped his fingers on his jeans, but that just made Gerard look even more uncomfortable. His embarrassment was adorable, and Frank couldn’t help but wonder what his face would’ve looked like if he’d put the fingers in his mouth instead. 

“That’s… God, why do you always have to touch my bed?” Gerard repeated, blushing even darker as he sat back down at his desk. 

“I like your bed,” Frank mumbled. “It’s safe.”

“Safe?” Gerard asked.

“I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Gerard said quickly, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Because no one’s hurt you in my bed.”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. “You know, Gerard, I… I’m not comfortable around a lot of guys.”

“That’s no surprise,” Gerard said. 

“But I feel safe with you,” Frank said. 

“Because you know I’m not going to rape you,” Gerard mumbled.

“Yeah, because you already jacked off into your blanket,” Frank said. It was all he could think to say to combat Gerard’s insensitive comment. 

“Shut up,” Gerard said, his cheeks burning even darker. “Like _you_ don’t…”

“Who were you thinking about?” Frank asked, just to see Gerard blush even more. He was cute when he was embarrassed. Frank couldn’t get enough.

“Don’t ask me that!” Gerard snapped. “I don’t want to talk about that, it’s embarrassing!”

“It’s cute,” Frank whispered, offering Gerard a shy smile.

“It’s not cute—you’re confused. You’re really, really confused…” 

“No I’m not,” Frank said. 

“You’ve got like… You act like I’m perfect or something, but I’m really not. I’m a _normal_ person. You know that right? I can’t help you any more than your dad or anyone else. And…and it shouldn’t make you _happy_ to stick your hand in…whatever. Don’t you get that?”

“No, _you_ don’t get it,” Frank snapped. “Maybe you don’t understand because you don’t ever date guys who _like_ you, but just being near you makes me happy. And being happy makes me feel a lot better than being sad on my own at my dad’s house. You’re the only friend that I have…”

“I know,” Gerard said, shifting uncomfortably. “But…try to make more friends. It’s not so hard. I have…two or three school friends. You’re not as awkward as you think…”

“People at school don’t like me,” Frank mumbled.

“So make them like you,” Gerard said, shrugging. Frank couldn’t help but think ‘that’s easy for you to say,’ because Gerard was cool and college was a lot different than high school. “You can’t tell me there aren’t any other kids at your school who all the popular kids hate. There’s gotta be someone.”

“I guess,” Frank mumbled. 

“Try to be a little more sociable. I’m going to be going back to school and you can call me and write me whenever, but I’m not going to be around. I can’t help you if you get depressed again. Having a friend you can hang out with can help take your mind off it. You don’t have to tell them, you know, about everything that happened. It’s a lot for some people to even think about, but you can find people who…” Gerard paused and looked down at his desk. “You can find other people who’ve been through similar things and have similar feelings. Even if their experience isn’t the same, there has to be someone else at your school who’s been hurt, or who’s been made to feel helpless… Someone else at your school is probably bullied too.”

“I guess,” Frank mumbled. 

“I get that you’re afraid to put yourself out there,” Gerard said. “I _know_ how that feels. I went to a public school and I got ripped apart for being gay and for being found out. It would be awful to be in a private, religious school like yours and to be found out… You don’t want to get made fun of for being different… It sucks to have people you don’t know pick on you, but I know it’s a lot scarier to put yourself out there and get made fun of for who you are.”

“You hardly even like me and we’re the same,” Frank mumbled. “What am I supposed to think?”

“I like you fine,” Gerard mumbled. “If I didn’t like you I wouldn’t agree to…you know.” He couldn’t even bear to repeat it—to admit that they were dating. “I don’t really know you that well… When you’re not upset, you’re pretty cool…”

“I have to go back to my mom’s this weekend,” Frank said, just to change the topic. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I’d say I’d come visit you, but I have a feeling your mom isn’t going to let that happen.”

“My _dad_ will make sure that doesn’t happen,” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Gerard said, shrugging. “He’s not going to scare me off… And if he takes the paper away again, just…I’m sure I’ll be around some weekend you’re at your dad’s and can come get a new one. I can hide it in the bushes or whatever.”

When the conversation ended, they started a new one about what sketch Gerard was working on and what other works he’d been getting into. They talked about art school and the kinds of projects Gerard had to do—and how much Gerard hated his photography teacher. Around four o’clock, Frank said he had to go back home before his father returned from work.

“Hey, before you go…” 

Frank turned away from the stairwell and looked at Gerard who was getting up from the desk. Frank blushed as Gerard approached him. He could help but feel shy when Gerard put his hands on his hips and pulled him in for another kiss.

Frank felt his cheeks burn red all the way up to the tips of his ears. Gerard ran his tongue along the bottom of Frank’s lip until he opened his mouth. Frank sucked on Gerard’s tongue gently, still shy—still not sure how he was supposed to kiss—and accidentally let out a moan when Gerard licked along the side of the tongue as he pulled him closer. 

When Frank thought the kiss was going to be over, Gerard only pulled back long enough to take a breath. Then their mouths were smashed together again. Gerard put a hand on the back of Frank’s head to keep him trapped in the kiss. At first, Frank flinched and tried to pull back. The only other time his head had been held was by Ronnie when he was making him suck something much more intimidating than a tongue. 

Gerard let out a soft little cry, and that was when Frank felt himself relax. Gerard made the kiss wet, and when his tongue wasn’t wrapped around Frank’s he was sucking on Frank’s bottom lip. 

It made Frank feel older—more desirable. He was being taught how to kiss without being told he was bad. He was being touched like Ronnie used to touch him, but it was okay and it wasn’t that scary. 

Even when Frank felt the bulge in Gerard’s jeans brush against lower abs, he wasn’t as scared as he thought he should be. He felt his stomach flutter and, with a shaking hand, he got up the courage to place his palm against Gerard’s crotch—not squeezing or rubbing, just cupping. Gerard flinched, but didn’t pull back. He tightened his hold on Frank’s head and made the kiss even deeper. He started lapping at Frank’s tongue and ran his other hand up Frank’s side to grab at his ribs. 

Frank whimpered softly and gently started moving his hand to rub Gerard through his jeans. Gerard sighed and broke the kiss. Frank flinched, expecting to get yelled at or even hit, but Gerard just muttered, “You can’t do that” before going back and kissing him even harder. 

Frank rubbed him, not enough to actually give him much pleasure but mostly just to see what it felt like to touch someone who wasn’t forcing him to do it. Gerard seemed to like it, but wasn’t trying to push Frank to his knees. In fact, the more Frank touched, the more Gerard would touch him in return. Gerard ran his hand down Frank’s side to cup the back of his thigh, but when he squeezed it wasn’t as frightening as when Ronnie had done the same. 

When Ronnie would grope him, it made him feel dirty and wrong… When Gerard did it, Frank just felt wanted. It was a little bit intimidating, but Frank knew Gerard wouldn’t make him do anything. But…

If Gerard asked…

If Gerard wanted him to, Frank would get on his knees for him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to go through with it, but for Gerard he would try. It would be honorable enough just to know what Gerard looked like under his clothes. 

“Mm, you gotta stop,” Gerard said, moving both of his hands to Frank’s shoulders and pushing him back. Frank stared up at him, probably looking starry-eyed and half-crazed. “When you’re older,” Gerard said. Frank blinked at him, at a loss for words. “Fuck—when you’re older.”

Gerard turned his face away, still panting and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Watching him, Frank lifted his own hand to his lips and wiped off the spit. His mouth was buzzing, and he bet his lips were as red and swollen as Gerard’s. 

“I…” Frank looked down when Gerard moved to readjust himself in his tight jeans. “I could…” Frank reached out and touched Gerard’s belt buckle with the tips of his fingers.

“No,” Gerard said, taking a step back. “Frank, you can’t…”

“I would,” Frank said, looking up at Gerard hopefully. “If you let me…”

“Frank, I… I really want you to think about this,” Gerard said, adjusting himself again and grunting in discomfort. “I’m going to be gone for a long time…at school, you know? And you’re gonna have…thoughts and things, but I really want you to think about what it’s going to be like if you ever… _want_ to again—with me or anybody. Speaking from experience, the first time you…you sleep with somebody after getting hurt, it doesn’t go well. I cried a lot—I’m a crybaby, really. I cried the whole time.”

“Didn’t…he stop?” Frank asked, looking at Gerard in concern. “If you were crying, why would he keep going?”

“I told him to,” Gerard said, shrugging. “I wanted to get over it, so I thought if I had him keep going I would get over it faster. I really just made it worse… So…” Gerard paused and rubbed at his face with his hands. “So if… If you _want_ it to be with me…just know that if you start crying, we’re…we’re going to stop. I mean, I know there’s going to be fear, and maybe your eyes will get watery, but if you _sob_ I’m not going to keep going. It doesn’t help… Pushing it wouldn’t help.”

“I won’t cry,” Frank whispered, wanting to look stronger than he was. Even now, even after making passes, Frank knew he wouldn’t be able to so much as unzip Gerard’s pants without starting to panic. 

“Just… I want you to just try to think about it as realistically as you can. It helped me a little bit…knowing that I could pick who I was going to be with and where, and… _I_ would never hurt you, Frank. I want you to know that if we ever get to that point and you’re not comfortable, I want to know. It’s not going to, you know, piss me off or whatever if you’re scared or worried about it. I would rather have you tell me to stop than know that I’ve become the sort of person _I’m_ afraid of, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Frank said, reaching out just to touch Gerard’s hand. Gerard let him, and even smiled a little when Frank twisted their fingers together. 

“You should go home before your dad finds you here,” Gerard whispered, leaning down to kiss Frank one last time. Frank sighed softly and lifted his arms to give Gerard a hug. Gerard laughed softly and wrapped Frank up in his arms, squeezing him tightly and kissing him on the cheek. “You should…call me or whatever when you’re at home.”

“I will,” Frank said, smiling and nuzzling Gerard’s shoulder.

“Oh—before you go…” Gerard pulled away and stalked over to his desk. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a sketchpad. “While I’m away at school, you should…draw stuff for me. It’s cheesy, but…if you sent me pictures I could send some back and they’d be like gifts since both of us are poor and we can’t buy…you know, gifts.”

Frank held the sketchpad to his chest and smiled. It was the best gift in the world, even if he couldn’t draw worth shit. With another quick kiss, Frank hurried up the stairs and fled from the Way family’s house. Donna tried to stop him, but Frank just bolted out the door. He was too excited to be knocked back down to Earth. He was going to go home, start watching _Cats_ and make sure his sketchpad was hidden well before his dad got home.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter Eighteen_

Frank had been a little more than heartbroken when he didn’t get to see Gerard one last time before being shipped back to his mother’s house. He doubted his mom would let him go visit Gerard, and knew she would sooner die than let the “junkie” into her home. His doubts had been confirmed, too, when his father—who dropped him off at his mother’s house—pulled his mother aside to talk to her.

“Frank, you should go to your room—I bought you a surprise,” Frank’s mother said as soon as he walked through the door. That was the first thing that tipped Frank off that something was wrong. His mom never bought him ‘welcome back for the summer’ gifts, and she never tried to rush him out of the room when his father was around. Typically, she tried to keep Frank between them like a shield…

“A surprise?” Frank asked, looking at his mother cautiously. He knew what was going to happen. His dad was going to tell her about Gerard and the sweater and the sketches… His dad was going to get him in trouble the way Ronnie always got him in trouble. 

“Yeah—go on back to your room. Go check it out,” his mother pressed. Frank slowly left the room, but stayed just out of sight around the corner. He heard his father move his suitcase around in the living room before his parents started talking. “So what happened?—how did you let this happen?”

“I can’t be home every day—I have to go to work.”

“Have they…have they _slept_ together?” 

Frank felt his stomach tighten as his parents gossiped about him. He was terrified his mother would jump the gun and call the police on Gerard. If Gerard was arrested and put in prison, Frank would never forgive himself. 

“I…Linda, I would _know_ if that pervert raped our kid.”

Frank hissed, rage bubbling up in his gut like fire. His father would know if Gerard _raped_ him? _Ronnie_ raped him and no one noticed and no one cared! No one except Gerard who deserved to be labelled a saint when all his parents wanted to do was label him a pedophile.

“Oh, what? And you’re saying I wouldn’t know because I didn’t know what happened with Ronnie?—It’s not _my_ fault Frank didn’t tell me! If he’d told me instead of covering it up it would’ve ended a lot sooner. He _chose_ to hide it, so don’t try to tell me that I’m a bad parent because I didn’t catch it happening!”

“I’m not going to fight with you about this anymore—that boy is deluding our son into thinking he’s _gay._ ”

“It’s a phase! He’ll grow out of it. You’re the one who let him run off to the neighbor’s.”

“What should I have done, Linda? Tie him to his bed while I’m away at work?”

“Well, no! I don’t know—you were supposed to be watching him! You’re supposed to _help me_ protect him. If he kept going over there when you told him not to, why didn’t you _punish him?_ ”

The word punish made Frank sick to his stomach and he wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. He wasn’t a child anymore, he was in high school now, but pain is pain and Frank didn’t like even the idea of it. 

“Punish him? What the hell was I supposed to do? The boy’s fifteen. There’s nothing to ground him from and I’m not _beating_ our child.”

“I didn’t say to hit him,” Linda groaned. “Just…don’t let him get so close to that _pedophile._ Why is that so hard for you to do?”

“Because he lives next door to me! It’s not like I drive him to their house. I’ve tried getting his parents to keep Frank out of their house, but they go to work too. I can’t believe that you’re trying to blame me for this. It’s _your_ fault that any of this is even happening, Linda.”

“Don’t start that!”

“You let him get raped and you let him get _beat_ by some random asshole and never even told me! How in the hell does it sound like a good idea to let someone else hit _my_ son? I can let it go if you were confused because Frank hid the abuse from you, but you _knew_ he hit my child. You let a man I didn’t even know _beat_ my son until he couldn’t even sit down! You’re _lucky_ I didn’t take you to court for full custody. Frank was _never_ hurt by _anyone_ under my watch.”

“Except for the time he was put in the hospital!”

Frank sighed and left to go to his room. His parents were just going to fight about him and Gerard was no longer even a part of the discussion. Frank didn’t want to hear himself being talked about. He remembered better than anyone the sort of tortures Ronnie had put him through and he didn’t want the stories retold. 

Just as Frank opened his bedroom door, the voices in the kitchen escalated. 

“I saw the photos too!” His mother shrieked. “I _know,_ okay? And I’m _sorry!_ I’m sorry that Frank got hurt—you _know_ I wouldn’t _want_ someone to hurt my baby…”

Frank felt like he might start to cry but fought it as he closed himself off in his bedroom. The thought that his parents had been shown _any_ of the photos Ronnie took of him made him want to throw up. He knew how he looked in those photos—pathetic, defiled, tainted…

Why had they shown his parents the photos!?

Frank felt the tears burn the backs of his eyes and he whimpered quietly as he sank down onto his floor. He covered his ears and buried his face in his knees. He heard his parents screaming, but tried as hard as he could to block them out. 

He didn’t care if his mother had told him she’d gotten him a gift—he was too upset to look for it, and no matter what it was it wouldn’t fix the pain. 

It hurt to have his tragedy screamed about in the next room… It hurt to be the reason his parents were fighting. And he hated hearing his parents throw insults at Gerard who had never done _anything_ wrong.

After several minutes, Frank heard his mother’s voice call out louder than the other shrieks. 

“Frank, come say goodbye to your father!”

Frank trembled against his bedroom door, unable to get himself to stand up even though he knew he was going to be in trouble if he didn’t. At the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of showing his face. He was crying and he knew he looked pathetic. If his parents saw, they’d just get angrier. 

He was trapped. Without wanting to dwell on it, he knew it felt the same as it had when he’d been under Ronnie’s watch. Stuck in agony but unable to be helped or saved by anyone. If they saw him crying, wouldn’t they just yell at him for being so immature? Wouldn’t they just bring Gerard into again?... Wouldn’t they just turn on each other some more?

“Frank, come on!”

“Leave me alone!” Frank shouted, pressing his hands to his ears as hard as he could. He felt his mother start pushing on his door, but he just leaned back against it. “Go away!”

His mother tried appealing to him, but when she had no luck she went back to yelling at her ex-husband.

Frank fell onto his side in front of his bedroom door and gave in to the sorrow. He wept into the carpet until his body was shaking, long after the shouting stopped, long after his father left…

He wanted Gerard… All he wanted in the world was to go see Gerard and maybe watch _Cats._ He would give anything in the world to feel safe and comfortable. 

Apparently, comfort was just something he wasn’t allowed to have…

( ) ( ) ( )

Later in the evening, Frank’s mother knocked on his door again. By the time she came he’d stopped crying, but her efforts to be kind were lost on her son. Frank didn’t want to talk to her—he didn’t care about gifts or bribes. He just wanted to go to bed and never wake up.

It did no good to be in a “relationship” with Gerard now. He’d probably never see him again. Frank wouldn’t be surprised if his dad moved just to keep him away from Gerard. 

“Frank… Please, let’s just talk about what happened, okay?”

“I don’t want to—leave me alone!” Frank said, pushing against the door again when his mother tried and tried to get in. 

“I’m sorry that we got in a fight in front of you. We just… We don’t handle it well. Please talk to me.”

“Go away,” Frank repeated, slamming his head back against the door. 

“Frank!”

“I don’t want to talk to you!”

“It’s okay that you’re upset, Frank, but it’s been four hours. You need to calm down and we need to talk about this…”

Frank groaned and rolled onto his stomach on the floor, curling into himself even though there was nowhere for him to hide. He didn’t want to discuss anything. All talking did was remind him of the things that hurt. He wanted to watch _Cats_ and throw up. That was all he wanted in the world—he didn’t need to talk to anyone about it, either.

“Why don’t you…talk to be about your friend?”

“So you can yell at me and call him a pedophile!?” Frank shouted. “Leave him alone!”

“Just talk to me about him. I won’t get mad. I’m…I’m going to be patient. I’m gonna listen.”

“No you’re not!” Frank yelled. He knew better. He wasn’t stupid. 

“Frank, either you talk to me about him now, or we fight about it later.”

Frank covered his face with his hands and shook his head. This was the worst nightmare he could possibly imagine. It couldn’t get any worse if the phone rang and a cop had called to say that Ronnie had escaped from prison and had been seen on his way to their house…

“Just tell me what’s going on between you and that boy.”

“Nothing!” Frank yelled.

“Then why are you wearing his clothes?”

“He just gave me his sweater—I was cold!”

“It’s summertime, Frank. You can tell me. I’m not going to get mad at you,” his mother said, knocking softly on the door as if to remind him that she was still trying to get in.

Frank wanted to point out that she wouldn’t be mad at him, that she’d be mad at Gerard, but he didn’t want to make the conversation any more tense. 

“Come on, Frank…”

“He’s just my friend,” Frank said, pressing his forehead against the floor and groaning. 

“Your father said—”

“Gerard’s never done anything to me!” Frank yelled. “Gerard’s nice to me—I’ve told you before! Gerard’s my best friend!”

“He’s too old to be your friend.”

“No he isn’t! Mom, he’s the only one who ever listened to me about anything!”

“ _I_ would’ve listened, Frank. But you never thought to tell _me._ I could’ve helped you. What was _Gerard_ going to do for you?”

“Gerard believed me! I don’t want to talk about it anymore! He’s just….he’s just my friend.”

“You and I both know there’s more to it than that, Frank.”

Frank whimpered and rubbed his face harder. He would never admit what he and Gerard had. He couldn’t put the tiny, fragile relationship in danger. It was a dream to call Gerard his boyfriend. He couldn’t let his parents take that away from him.

“I know he hasn’t _hurt_ you, but there are things—”

“Stop it, Mom! Gerard isn’t like that! If you ever met him you’d know! But you’ve never even talked to him. You can’t judge him if you’ve never talked to him…”

“Well… Well, how about this, Frank? You open the door and we talk for a little bit…and then maybe next weekend why don’t we invite your friend over for dinner.”

“So you can bully him? No! You’ll just start accusing him of things and then he’ll _never_ talk to me again!”

“I’m not going to accuse him of anything, Frank. This is why you need to open the door so we can just talk!”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Frank shouted. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying as hard as he could to block out her voice and her knocking on his door. After a while, she gave up and went away. She muttered something, but Frank was thankful he didn’t catch it. 

( ) ( ) ( )

His mother’s gift was a new guitar and a hodgepodge of equipment. She told him that she’d paid for more guitar lessons for him, not even realizing that the reason he’d stopped playing guitar was because Ronnie used to pay for his lessons. It didn’t matter who bought the lessons now…every time his fingers touched the strings he thought of Ronnie. 

He didn’t tell his mother about it, though. He just shrugged and said thanks, pretended he was excited when his mom kept pushing for a better reaction. 

His mom kept offering for Gerard to come over for dinner, but Frank ignored her every time she mentioned it. He wouldn’t put Gerard in danger. He loved him. There was no way he could let his mom find out about it, but he loved Gerard more than anyone. 

Even if he wanted a chance to see Gerard again before he went back to college, Frank knew it would be too risky to have Gerard in his home. His mom would pick a fight with him and it would all be ruined. 

Late in the night, after his mother had gone to bed, Frank put the tape of _Cats_ that Gerard bought him into the VCR and sat in the middle of the living room floor watching it. In the back of his mind, he still felt a nagging fear that Ronnie was going to walk out of the shadows and come to smash it again.

It was so tense that Frank could barely concentrate on the dancers or the songs. He only lost himself in _Memory_ and Mistoffelees’ song…but the distraction didn’t last for long.

He wanted to call Gerard, but he was afraid someone else would answer the phone or that his mother would catch him. 

For a while, Frank just sat on the floor, cradling the phone in his hands. He looked over the numbers, thinking of the numbers Gerard had given him on the slip of paper. He’d memorized all of them—just in case one of his parents tried to take the paper away from him again. 

When the small, rubber buttons on the phone lit up, Frank’s heart froze in his chest and he almost dropped the phone. Someone was calling the house at two in the morning. 

Frank answered the phone before it could ring, afraid the noise would wake his mother. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard stared at his cell phone, looking over the numbers on his screen but too nervous to actually hit send. It was two thirty in the morning and Gerard knew that if he called his “boyfriend’s” house, he was going to wake his mom and probably get them both into trouble. 

He didn’t know why, but he just felt the need to check in on the kid. He knew Frank’s parents fought about everything, and he’d seen Frank’s father return from dropping Frank off in a really bad mood. It had taken him a long time to come back from his ex-wife’s house… Gerard was sure they’d been fighting in front of Frank even though the kid deserved so much better.

Gerard just wanted to make sure that Frank was alright. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get upset and kill himself over the stress of his parents’ fighting. He couldn’t let Frank start to think that he was all alone again—that Gerard had forgotten about him now that he’d gone home.

Before he could stop himself again, Gerard hit send and his stomach tightened painfully when he heard the phone start to ring.

“Hello?”

Gerard stiffened when he heard Frank’s voice. The phone had barely rung once before Frank had answer, as if he’d been sitting by the phone waiting all night…

“Frank?” Gerard was still taken aback. He’d expected to hear Frank’s mother answer, either pissed off at being woken up or afraid that there had been some sort of accident. 

“Gerard? You—you… You really called?” Frank asked. He sounded like he was crying and Gerard looked down at his desk. It almost seemed as if Frank had been expecting him to call…or maybe Frank had been preparing to call him.

“Yeah, I… I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know your parents get into fights and… I don’t know. I guess I was worried…” Gerard cleared his throat and picked up one of his pencils. He started sketching on a piece of notebook paper, just to calm his nerves.

Frank’s mother would be pissed if she caught her son on the phone with a twenty-year-old in the middle of the night. 

“They fought about Ronnie,” Frank said quietly. “The…the cops showed them the pictures he took.”

“What?” Gerard asked, feeling sick. Why had _anyone_ let alone his parents been shown the sick things that guy had captured on film? And why had they let Frank _hear_ that they had? Didn’t they realizing how humiliating that was? Didn’t they realize they were playing right into that sick fuck’s hands? 

That guy had tried so hard to torture Frank with the fear that someone might see the photographs. He left them laying out, knowing Frank would find them but still leaving Frank to worry that maybe his mom would find them and see the filthy things her son had been doing. Frank was terrorized at the thought of the pictures because he’d always known, deep down, that someone else would see him at his lowest moment.

Now the poor kid knew his parents had both been shown images of the most shameful, demeaning, and dehumanizing moments of his life. 

“Why would they show them that?” Frank asked. Gerard heard him sniff back tears and shook his head.

“I don’t know, Frank. It was…it was stupid. They didn’t… I’m sorry. They didn’t have to see that.” He tried to ignore the quiet sound of Frank sobbing, but couldn’t quite block it out. Gerard didn’t know what he would’ve done if anyone other than his attackers had seen him on those horrible nights. The very thought was degrading… 

“I can’t even look at her,” Frank said, choking slightly. “It’s…It’s _embarrassing._ ”

“I know. If there was anything I could do…” They both knew there wasn’t. “Did anything else happen? They didn’t hit you or anything, did they?”

“No. They just yelled at each other. Started talking about how I shouldn’t be around you and…then my mom wanted me to invite you over so she can yell at you too.”

“Do you…want me to come over?” Gerard asked. He knew that if he went anywhere near Frank’s mother that the woman would cross-examine him and probe him for details he didn’t have. She would assume he’d somehow hurt Frank, and Gerard wouldn’t be able to stand up to her. He was dating her son…they’d _done_ things—not extremely intimate things, but enough. 

“No. I don’t want you to get yelled at by her too,” Frank whispered. “She’ll…probably show you the pictures and ask which one you’re in.”

Gerard dropped the pencil in his hand when Frank started sobbing loudly. He knew how bad Frank was feeling, it was painful to hear him crying when he couldn’t do anything to help him. 

“I wish I could help, Frank…”

“I love you,” Frank cried. “I _mean_ it.”

“I know,” Gerard said, his voice soft. “I love you too, Frank.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, picking up his pencil again and returning to his sketch. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I guess,” Frank said. “I’m not gonna…hurt myself or anything. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard asked, keeping his voice gentle so Frank wouldn’t become defensive. 

“Yeah. I’m just…sad.”

“I know. It’ll be okay. If you ever need someone to talk to, you can call me.”

Frank hummed, but didn’t answer. He was still crying, but he was trying harder to hide it from Gerard.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter Nineteen_

Frank didn’t know why he was particularly heartbroken when Gerard returned to university. Frank hadn’t gotten to see Gerard since he left his father’s house, and they’d only talked on the phone about once a week—and always late at night. Gerard was afraid of getting Frank in trouble, and Frank was equally afraid of getting caught. 

When Frank returned to high school, his heart remained broken and he was lonely. Gerard told him again and again to branch out—make friends, but it was difficult. There were new students to talk to, but Frank shied away from them. 

He didn’t think he was good enough for any of them. There was nothing he had interest in that could possibly appeal to anyone else. His whole life was Gerard…all that was left were nightmares of Ronnie. 

Once in a while, before classes would start, Frank would catch fragments of conversation between some of the new students. They were conversations Frank knew he could contribute to, but he was too afraid. Deep down he had this sinking feeling that everyone _knew_ when they looked at him.

They knew he was damaged. They knew he was tainted. They knew he was gay. 

To speak would be to draw attention to himself. To draw attention would be to elicit pain. 

Frank kept his head down and his mouth shut, letting his chances of new friendships slip through his fingers a little more each day. And whenever Frank began to feel that maybe—just maybe—he could escape his painful past, his life put him right back in his place…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard forgot to put his phone on silent while working on a project in his advanced ceramics class. He and the other students were working on pottery, using the pottery wheel and covering their hands in water and the reddish brown ooze of moist clay. When his cell phone started ringing it set off a small chain of reactions. 

A blonde girl’s hand slipped and crushed her pot, the teacher growled, and Gerard flinched—smashing his own pot in his hands. He would’ve felt annoyed or ashamed, but he knew that he could recreate the same craft even better the second time. 

“Sorry,” Gerard said, standing up and quickly going to the sink to wash off his hands. His phone stopped ringing by the time he finally reached it. He assumed it was his mother _again,_ or an annoying telemarketer that had somehow gotten his number, but his heart sank when he realized it was Frank.

Frank _never_ called him when he was in class—and it was only twelve o’clock. Frank should’ve been in class too unless something happened to him. 

Gerard told his professor he had to leave for a family emergency and quickly packed up his things, putting his deformed clay back into its bucket and washing his hands again before leaving, promising to email his instructor to schedule a time to restart his project. 

As soon as he stepped out of the room, Gerard tried calling Frank back but didn’t get an answer. An hour later, Frank called him again and Gerard had put off going to his next class just so he could answer.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, trying to sound friendly but unable to hide his concern. Almost instantly, Frank started sobbing and Gerard sank down onto the floor of his dorm room floor. Part of him was terrified that he’d been assault again—he cried so hard for the first ten minutes of the call that for the next five all he could do was wheeze. “Frank, did someone hurt you?”

“No,” Frank cried before sobbing again.

“Okay,” Gerard said gently. “What happened?” Frank cried out as if he’d been struck and Gerard felt his heart break for the younger boy. “Are you at home?”

“Y-yeah—Mom had to go back to work... I-I…” Frank’s words turned into hysteric weeping and Gerard tried to sooth him.

“It’s okay—tell me what happened. Just talk to me. I’m listening. I’ve got nowhere to be—I’m listening. Just tell me what happened…” 

“I-I had to go into the office,” Frank said, his voice completely choked with tears. “And they h-had a k-kid sent to see the hea-headmaster. And I was—I was just waiting to get a form for my teacher a-and th-the headmaster came out and th-thought I was the one sent to him and tr-tried to make me—” Frank’s story morphed into a cry of agony and Gerard sighed softly. 

He knew Frank’s Catholic school still used corporal punishment to deal with unruly students, and that the same sort of assault was projected onto him by Ronnie… Beatings for Frank weren’t associated with punishment—they were associated with rape and extreme fear. 

“He thought I was the one in trouble,” Frank cried. “H-He was g-going to hit me!”

“But he didn’t, right? I thought…I thought your mom told the school they couldn’t.” Gerard sighed heavily, anxiety eating away at his stomach. He wanted to go to Frank—he felt responsible for keeping the boy calm now that he was in so much distress and all alone. He was afraid Frank might hurt himself just to escape that crushing fear of pain.

“The secretary came back and stopped him, and then the guy who was actually in trouble showed up—I was okay at first, but when I was about to leave I heard the headmaster start hitting him and I just…I just lost it.” Frank was still weeping, but he’d stopped shrieking in his pain. 

“Did you…have a flashback?” Gerard asked quietly. Frank sniffed and made a noncommittal sound.

“I heard the headmaster hitting the guy and…I felt like it was me. I felt like I was being hit… They had to send me home,” Frank added in a small voice. His shame was all too apparent in his tone and Gerard felt horrible for him. Kids were supposed to be afraid of getting paddled in the principal’s office—they weren’t supposed to have panic attacks over it happening to someone else, though. 

“It’s okay, Frank,” Gerard said softly. “You’re not gonna get hurt anymore. Okay?”

“I’m gonna have the nightmares again,” Frank cried pathetically. “I don’t want to! I don’t want to remember—it _hurts!_ ”

“I know—Frank, you know you can call me if you have a bad dream. I’m here for you—I’m your boyfriend,” Gerard said, keeping his voice as soft and soothing as possible. “I love you, Frank.”

“I love you too,” Frank cried, sounding so desperate. Gerard wished he were closer to home so he could actually _go_ to Frank and hold him. Their relationship was weird and wrong, but it hurt him to know that Frank was so upset. He knew what it felt like to have his body broken, but his will had never been crushed the way Frank’s had. Two rapes hardly compared to the tortures Frank endured—and Frank had been so young when it started…

Gerard had at least been aware of his own sexuality—and sex—before his first assault. Frank, for the rest of his life, would know his sexuality brought pain. He wanted intimacy, but it was not going to come without a pain that would remind him of his abuse. 

“You’ve just…gotta take your mind off of what happened today. Tell me…about your week, or—”

“I don’t want to talk about me,” Frank said in between whimpers. 

“Well, I’ve been making pottery since last week,” Gerard said, trying to think of any story he had to help distract Frank from his suffering. “Oh—my roommate and I built a robot out of beer cans and paper towel tubes. It doesn’t move or anything, but it looks cool as hell.”

“I want to come visit you,” Frank said, sniffing loudly. “I just want to see you—I really love you.”

“I love you, too,” Gerard said quietly. “If your mom didn’t mind, I’d let you come up…”

“I want to see you,” Frank repeated. “I just love you—I love you, Gerard!”

“I know,” Gerard said. “It’ll be okay, Frank. No one is going to hurt you, alright?”

“It—It would be different if I knew why he did it,” Frank cried. He returned to sobbing and Gerard sighed. When Frank was near him—within arm’s reach—he could just hug him or kiss his cheek and Frank would melt. Frank loved the slightest signs of affection. It just showed how wounded he was—wounded in places his parents and counselors could not touch.

“He did it because he wanted power—there was nothing you could do. And I know that hurts, but it wasn’t your fault,” Gerard said, looking over at the clock on his roommate’s desk. In ten more minutes, his roommate would be returning from class and the conversation would no longer be private. 

“I didn’t want him to do it,” Frank cried. Gerard heard something rustle—like blankets—and had the sad image of Frank burying himself in his bed sheets in mind. Frank told him again and again how upset he was that his mother never bought him a new mattress after the assaults. His had blood stains on both sides which served a constant reminder of pain even when covered by the sheets.

“No one thinks you wanted hurt, Frank,” Gerard said. “You’ve gotta take your mind off it, though. You’re tearing yourself apart for something that wasn’t your fault. You should…take a nap and get some rest. Then you can call me again later and we’ll talk about something else.”

“I’m going to have nightmares,” Frank whispered. 

“If you have one, just call me. I’ll help you—you’re my boyfriend.”

“I know,” Frank said, the tone of his voice holding more emotions than the words ever could. Gerard could feel how much Frank was depending on him, and even though he was sure he’d feel terrified of the pressure, Gerard found himself almost inspired. It was his chance to prove himself again—to show that he wasn’t just some weak victim who couldn’t stick up for himself or anyone. 

It wasn’t that he was going to use Frank as some self-improvement device—or at least that wasn’t what he intended—but he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass him by. This was his chance to work on recovery, too. Frank needed support to come through this all alive. Gerard needed self-respect and dignity to keep from getting depressed or doing himself in. Frank, as broken and frayed as he was, was the only apparent anchor Gerard had in the world. If he helped Frank, he was certain he could overcome anything. 

“So tell me, what else has been going on at home? Have you had any more guitar lessons?” 

One of the last things Frank had told Gerard about over the phone was the new guitar his mother had bought him. Gerard knew that Ronnie used to pay for Frank’s guitar lessons and couldn’t figure out why the woman thought it was a good idea to reintroduce anything that was even remotely connected to her ex. There was the possibility that she had forgotten, but Gerard had the nagging feeling that she was trying to desensitize Frank to those bad connections. 

Just because Ronnie paid for the lessons before didn’t mean he had to think of Ronnie whenever he played guitar… It made sense, but it still felt a little soon. 

“My new teacher says I play really well,” Frank said, absolutely no pride in his voice. “I don’t like playing the way I used to…”

“Why not?” Gerard asked, knowing the true answer but wanting to give Frank the room to speak. 

“I don’t like playing guitar when there’s no point… If I had a reason to play it would be better.” Frank sounded so defeated. The tears were still heavy on his voice which quivered every few syllables.

“I want to hear you play,” Gerard mumbled. “I think it would be really cool. Mikey’s been getting lessons too. You guys could play together.”

“If my mom didn’t think you were some drug-dealer. I hate the way she talks about you and she’s never even met you!”

Gerard sighed and leaned back in his seat. Every other day Frank’s mother changed her opinion of Gerard. Some days she was pressuring Frank into inviting him to their home, and then the next days she would be insulting him until Frank was an emotional wreck.

“Frank, what if…what if I came down next weekend and visited? I need to get some stuff from home and…why don’t I just come see you? I want to see you—it’s been a while.” Gerard sighed and listened to Frank breathing. 

He didn’t answer for a long time, and then Frank just hung up.

( ) ( ) ( )

For the longest time, Gerard was certain Frank didn’t want him anywhere near his house—and not just because of his mother’s shifting opinion of the older boy. It was another week before Gerard was able to get Frank on the phone, and then after that Frank still hung up whenever Gerard asked if he could come over.

After an intense amount of deliberation, Gerard mapped Frank’s movements to figure out which weekends he’d be at home and when he’d be at his father’s. On the Friday that Gerard knew Frank would be at his mother’s, Gerard left his university in the city in order to return home for the weekend.

He didn’t tell Frank about it, too afraid of making him angry or somehow hurting his feelings. The boy deserved a friend he could rely on—if he couldn’t depend on his own _boyfriend_ to be there for him when things got rough, what was he going to have to live for?

Gerard didn’t want to think of it that way, but he was worried for Frank. He knew what it was like to be victimized and then _blamed_ for it. Frank was still so young… He didn’t have the strength yet to carry the burden on his own. 

He waited until he knew Frank’s mother would be home from work, then he drove to the house. He parked on the street across from their house—after getting the address in a roundabout way from his mother who got it from Frank’s father over a year before—and ended up sitting in his car for half an hour, gathering strength. 

After a while, he couldn’t take the stuffiness and made himself get out of the car and walk up to the quaint little house.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank stared out at the street from behind a thin, sheer curtain. He wanted to believe that he was having some kind of a fever-induced hallucination because there was no way, literally _no way_ for Gerard to have known he was sick and was coming to see him…

Frank didn’t believe it until Gerard was knocking on the door and Frank’s mother was moving to answer it.

He wanted to scream at her to go back to doing laundry—not to worry about the door. He was dizzy and feverish and he wanted to go to sleep, not get yelled at because Gerard came over unannounced. She was going to think he called him!

Frank’s mom seemed to open the door in slow motion, and that gave Frank more time to watch as her face went from confusion to outright anger.

“Frank? You didn’t tell me you were inviting anyone over,” she said. Her tone was a nearly forced type of calm and it made Frank’s skin crawl. 

“I-I didn’t call anyone,” Frank said, sniffing from his cold and wrapping his blanket more tightly around his shoulders. 

“Sorry,” Gerard said, still outside and out of Frank’s line of sight. “I just…I didn’t call, I just thought I’d stop by. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Frank.”

His mother just stared out the open door at Gerard, looking angrier by the second. Frank didn’t know if there was anything he could say to appease her, or if he should just tell Gerard to run. 

Then, all at once, a mask of composure swallowed up her face and—with no real expression at all—she stepped back and let Gerard inside. 

“I was getting ready to make dinner. I’ll set another place for you—Gerard, right?”

“Um…yeah.” Gerard stepped cautiously into the house and looked over into the living room at Frank who kept tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “Oh, Frank, are you—? Is, uh, is he sick?”

Gerard seemed to be confused about whether or not he was permitted to speak to Frank in his mother’s presence, and his discomfort was all too obvious.

“Yes, he has a cold. I was going to make him some tofu soup stuff. My friend at work gave me a recipe—her son’s girlfriend’s parents, or something like that; they own an organic, vegan, whatever market. Come—Come help me finish it.”

Frank watched in horror as his mother guided Gerard into the kitchen which was completely visible to the living room due to the home’s open floor plan. Frank got to observe Gerard in all of his awkward fidgeting as he tried to figure out how to help without getting in the way.

“So how is college, Gerard? Art school, is it?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, his tone suggesting that he, too, realized the woman’s attitude was not nearly as calm as her tone of voice. “I’ve been working on ceramics lately…”

“Oh, so that’s why your hands are so dry and cracked?”

“Um…Yeah, I guess so,” Gerard said. He looked at Frank anxiously from over the island counter separating the kitchen from the border of the living room. Frank frowned, but it was the only sort of support he could give him.

“You guess so? Don’t you know where your own hands have been?” Linda snapped.

“I…I _know_ so?” Gerard said. He swallowed hard and set to chopping the vegetables Frank’s mother threw down onto the cutting board in front of him. Frank could tell by his awkward hand movements and Linda’s disapproving gaze that Gerard had no idea how to handle a knife and was butchering the vegetables more than he was slicing them.

“And what brings you to _my_ house today all of a sudden?” She asked, her hands on her hips. Now that she had Gerard in her web—essentially trapped—she was not afraid to bare her claws.

“Well… I knew Frank was upset the other day and I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“You were worried about him?” She asked, annoying Frank with her tone of surprise. She was probably surprised to hear that Gerard—a drug addict, as far as she was concerned, who could only possibly be interested in her son for young, taboo sex—actually had _concern_ for her child. No one else was concerned about Frank, why would Gerard be?

“Yes,” Gerard said, making his voice firm for the first time. “I know what it’s like to feel that way. I wanted to come by and…show him I care.”

“And why exactly do you care so much, Gerard?” Linda asked, pretending that if she lowered her voice to a whisper her son in the next room wouldn’t hear. 

“I don’t think—Um…” Gerard looked at Frank with pity and shook his head. “I think you already know why I care,” Gerard mumbled. “I know what it’s like to…to be Frank. I never had anybody to turn to. I want to give him what I never got to have.”

Frank looked away and nestled down in his blankets, trying hard to block out the memories that Gerard’s carefully formed words brought forth. His mother didn’t say anymore on the conversation and instead turned to asking Gerard about what he expected to do with an arts degree. In his dizzy, fevered state, Frank slowly laid down across the couch and closed his eyes. He wished he could fall asleep, even though he was excited to finally have Gerard close to him again. 

It was impossible to enjoy his presence with his mother hovering so aggressively, and Frank tried to convince himself that Gerard’s presence was enough to make him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, everyone! The next new chapter should be up before too long!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have received a bit of backlash for one of the sentences in this story, but for the sake of artistic expression I am not going to change it, rather justify it here. When there is reference to a particular racial stereotype in this chapter, it is meant as a reflection of Frank's mother's narrow-mindedness which is present throughout the entire fic. She is a strict Catholic woman who looks down on a lot of other people including gay people, people of different religions, and of course different races. Though I do not share her views, I feel that it is in her character to have negative stereotypes in mind and therefore Frank would be worried about who he can/cannot talk to/bring home for fear of repercussions. I tried to make the stereotype mentioned as over the top as possible to avoid confusion for a quietly mentioned remark of racism. That style, apparently, did not work for everyone, but I want all readers to know it was not my intention to single out any one racial group or promote stereotyping.

_Chapter Twenty_

During Gerard’s last visit, when Frank was still struggling to overcome his nasty cold that had hung on for what felt like weeks, Gerard begged Frank to try to make friends. He told Frank that even though no one really understood what he went through, people could still offer him comfort when he needed it. 

It took a few days before the meaning of Gerard’s words really sunk in. In his life, people had only stayed around long enough to cause pain. He’d never had good friends because most of his childhood was spent being traumatized by his fighting parents and then by Ronnie’s abuse. To open up to anyone meant fear of being found out—fear of being judged and made to feel even more useless than he already did.  
But for Gerard, Frank was willing to try to branch out. And if it meant his mother would pressure him less about getting friends other than older guys like Gerard, Frank really didn’t have any other choice. 

So, for the first time in many years, as he walked into the cafeteria for lunch, Frank looked around for a place to sit other than in the far corner with his back to the rest of the room. It surprised him that no one looked at him as he stood in the center of the cafeteria peering around. He expected cold stares or barked insults, but no one paid any attention to the weird kid just standing there… Everyone was talking to friends or quickly eating their food. Some nerds were reading books at their tables, but that just made Frank more self-conscious about sitting down anywhere other than his sad little corner table. He didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s time. He really, really didn’t want the attention.

Just as he was about to sink into himself and retreat to his corner, Frank spotted a table in the other corner of the cafeteria where a boy sat with his back to the room—the same way Frank always sat. Frank recognized the boy with the curly mess of hair from one of his math classes. The kid proved he was smart when he was made to do work on the chalkboard, but never said a word in class unless called on.

Taking a deep breath, Frank worked up the courage to start walking over to the table. When he reached the boy’s table, he had to take another deep breath.

“Can I…sit with you?” Frank asked, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. The boy looked up and Frank, surprise in his eyes.

“Um…sure,” the boy said, scooting his tray over even though it wasn’t anywhere near the seat across from him where Frank chose to sit. “You’re…Frank. You’re in my geometry class.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, looking down at his lunch. Things seemed to be going well, but Frank could still feel himself shaking internally. 

“I’m Ray,” the boy said.

“I-I know,” Frank stammered. 

“Have you seen the new Spiderman movie?” Ray asked. “I got to see it last weekend with my dad.”

“I haven’t seen it yet… I saw the last one, though. With my dad.” Frank tried not to remember the details of how hard it was to see Spiderman because of the pain Ronnie had put him in. 

“It’s pretty good. Not as good as the first one though, better than the second,” Ray said. Frank was thankful Ray had normal social skills. It saved them from sitting awkwardly in silence. 

“I liked the first one a lot,” Frank mumbled. 

“Do you read the comics?” 

“I’ve…seen some,” Frank said. It was shocking how easy it was just to talk to Ray. For the most part, Ray looked at his lunch when he spoke as if expecting it to run away from him. It really took the pressure off since Frank didn’t feel like he was under observation.

“These uniforms suck, don’t they?” Ray asked. “If we could just wear t-shirts and stuff like normal kids, you could know right away if they like the same kind of things as you. If I had on a Spiderman shirt, I bet I’d have more friends here.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, thinking about when he’d seen Mikey wearing the Iron Maiden shirt back when they first met. It at least gave them something to talk about. “I don’t remember seeing you before this year… I was at the middle school before, were you there?”

“No, my mom thought I needed to go to school in a safer district after they found a body by my middle school’s dumpster. It was a homeless guy who starved to death, but she was scared by it.” Ray shrugged his shoulders and finished his food, turning his attention to his little, unopened carton of milk.

“My parents are Catholic so I’ve always been in this kind of school,” Frank mumbled.

“So you’re a bona fide Catholic schoolboy? That _sucks,_ ” Ray said, laughing.

“Why?” Frank asked.

“These schools are so…stuffy. I got sent to the principal’s office the other day for yawning too loud in class. I couldn’t help it—I was out late playing guitar.”

“You play guitar?” Frank asked, unable to hide his excitement. 

“Yeah. I’ve been playing rhythm for this little garage band since the summer. It’s awesome. Playing, I mean. The band kinda sucks, but it’s been fun playing.”

“I…I played guitar for a little while,” Frank said, trying not to think about Ronnie being the one to pay for his old lessons.

“Really? You should come check out my band sometime. We practice pretty much every night.”

“That’d be fun,” Frank said, wondering if his mom would even consider letting him go to Ray’s place. 

“How long have you been playing?”

“Not long really,” Frank said, looking away. “My…mom’s old boyfriend paid for my lessons, but I quit going.”

“Did you ever make any of your own songs or anything?” Ray asked.

Frank shrugged and tried to keep himself from shutting down. He didn’t want to start breaking in front of Ray, but thinking about Ronnie made his stomach tighten and his chest hurt. 

“Are you okay?” Ray asked. Even though Frank hadn’t been around him for more than a few minutes, he could already tell that Ray was more mature than his age. His tone was compassionate, like he understood that Frank hurt in a place he wasn’t showing. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I just don’t know if my mom will let me go anywhere. She’s kind of…over protective.”

Ray laughed and shook his mess of curly hair, “Bona fide Catholic schoolboy.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Before his mother would let him go to see Ray’s band play, she wanted to have him over at the house. When Frank described him to her, she apparently anticipated a Black gangster kid with dreadlocks instead of a fro, but when she was faced with Ray—awkward, pale-skinned Ray—she was pleasantly surprised. Ray was polite to her, ate her dinner without any complaint, and proved himself to be a decent kid who didn’t seem to have a hidden agenda of drug running or gang violence. 

So after a couple days of “play dates” and dinners at the Iero house, Frank was finally allowed to go visit Ray at his home. His house was comforting—his family was inviting albeit a bit busy. His mother was focused on keeping her kids away from the kitchen while she made dinner and Ray’s father was determined to keep everyone away from his television where he was unwinding after a day of delivering mail. 

Frank got to see Ray’s room which was covered in posters and concert fliers—some even stuck onto the ceiling when the walls ran out of room. He had posters of bands Frank had never heard of, and while they waited for dinner, Ray played some of his mix tapes and CDs.

It was fun to have a friend to hang out with, and Frank began to realize what he’d been missing out on and what Gerard had wanted him to experience when he pressured him to make friends. Ray was funny and cool, and just all around awesome to hang out with. Unlike Gerard, though, Frank didn’t feel all that attracted to Ray outside of his fun personality. 

After dinner, Ray wasted no time grabbing his guitar and dressing for his band’s practice. Frank was nervous about the prospect of meeting any more people, but he made himself keep a calm face. Friends of Ray’s couldn’t possibly be mean, right? And if they were, Ray was probably twice their height and could beat them up if he had to. 

At least, Frank hoped…

On the phone, Gerard kept reassuring him that no one was out to get him and that none of Ray’s friends would harm him. It was hard to believe that when everyone in Frank’s life had seemed determined to either harm him or make him feel berated. 

Frank couldn’t help but fidget as he and Ray walked down the street to Ray’s friend’s house. Ray was carrying his guitar slung over his back, looking like a real rock star despite his young age. Frank felt safe near him, but the streets and the unknown still felt threatening. 

When they reached Ray’s friend’s garage, Ray knocked on the garage door which immediately rolled up to allow him access. The door didn’t open all of the way, and Ray had to stoop down to step under it. Frank even had to duck, and he could suppress the urge to hide behind Ray when he set foot in the garage. 

“S’up, Ray?” One of the guys in the band said.

“My friend Frank from school is finally allowed to hear us play,” Ray said, walking away from Frank in order to hook up his guitar to an amp in the corner. 

“Ray said you’re a real Catholic schoolboy,” the same guy said. A boy no older than Frank, standing next to the guy who had spoken, started laughing and played with a microphone that wasn’t hooked to anything. 

“I guess I am,” Frank said, trying not to let his nervousness show.

“I’m Bob,” the guy said. “He’s Tony.” Bob pointed to the boy with the microphone.

“What up, Schoolboy?” Tony said, laughing like he’d been told a joke.

“He’s baked—don’t worry about him,” Ray said. 

“Baked?” Frank echoed, not understanding.

“High,” Ray said, simulating smoking with a hand gesture. 

“Oh,” Frank said, nodding quickly with embarrassed understanding. He hated being so sheltered and he could feel the judgment coming from Tony and Bob. Frank wasn’t one of them. He didn’t belong here…

“Don’t worry,” Ray said. “I asked them not to smoke while you’re around so your mom won’t smell it on your clothes and freak out.”

“Thanks,” Frank whispered, feeling more and more out of place. He felt as if he were intruding on Ray’s night and restricting his friends. Who wanted to hang out with the proper kid? No body…

It wasn’t long before Tony and Bob started asking questions about whether or not he was even allowed to listen to rock ‘n’ roll, did his mom know he was at a punk rock practice and not at bible study… Frank was waiting for them to ask how many times he’d been raped by a priest or if he liked being an altar boy in church. 

It had been over a year since Frank had gone anywhere near a church… 

However, once the group started to actually play, the questions stopped and Frank was able to relax into the chaotic sound. The singer, Tony, was trying to do screamo lyrics, but his voice kept cracking when he took it too low. Every time it broke, Ray would shake his head, his eyes on his guitar strings. 

Even though he didn’t have a trained ear, and even though he was more than a little biased, Frank couldn’t help but feel that Ray was the best musician in the group. Bob who was playing the drums did well, but every now and then he would miss a beat or lose his place. When he did, he would pause and regroup, then start again as if nothing went wrong. The practice was rough, but Frank liked the energy. Music was life—hearing it played live, even if the sound still wasn’t perfected, was revitalizing. 

It reminded him just how much he used to love to play before Ronnie came and ruined everything. 

“Ray said you play guitar,” Tony said as practice reached its end. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “A little bit.”

“You got a guitar?” 

“Yes,” Frank muttered.

“You should bring it next time,” Ray said. “Play with us.”

“I wouldn’t know any songs,” Frank said nervously. To him, there was nothing worse than being put in the spotlight.

“We’ll teach you some shit,” Tony said. “I play guitar, but I can’t play and sing. Ray’s awesome—he’ll teach you.”

Frank really didn’t have a choice. He had his guitar, his mom scolded him for never using it and refusing to go to lessons when she offered them. If he started playing with Ray and his friends, maybe it would make a good impression for Gerard and he’d be more excited to come around. If Frank looked like he was better adjusted, maybe things would actually start getting better instead of worse.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am back! Sorry this took forever, I had a lot of trouble getting back into the groove of writing this. In all honesty, it was supposed to end waaay back when Frank first told about Ronnie, but so many people liked the story I decided to keep going. It’s hard to write a relationship between Frank and Gerard when they legally can’t have one—and I’ve really hit the bottom of the barrel when it comes to ideas of what to do with minor!Frank and legaladult!Gerard. So…Although I feel this may make a lot of people mad, SUPER-TIME-LAPSE GO~ (It’s that or nothing I’m afraid. I’m completely lost on this story so this is my attempt to give it back to you all so as to avoid leaving every good reader hanging. Because you all really are the best readers and I don’t want to disrespect anyone!)

_Chapter Twenty-One_

It had taken time, but Frank had managed to break free of the bad memories that came whenever he held his guitar in his hands. Ronnie had been the first to buy him lessons, and Frank could barely play without thinking of the evil man. However, his induction into Ray’s circle of friends and his acceptance into their band caused those memories to slip away. Ronnie didn’t matter when Frank played now. Ronnie was an afterthought, a bad memory so far in the past that even the nightmares had stopped. 

Now, exiting his junior year of high school, most of Frank’s nightmares revolved around breaking guitar strings when playing in front of a crowd and having everyone else stop playing and just stare at him. That or getting caught by his mom when making out with Gerard…even though he and Gerard never really made out when Gerard came to visit.

They just didn’t get that far. The older Frank got—the more socialized he became—the more he realized that Gerard was…strange. It wasn’t a bad strange, not a “I suddenly hate you, you’re a freak” strange. Gerard was just different. Frank liked it, but it made Gerard a lot more difficult to get close to than almost everybody else.

Once he found his niche in the world, once Ray took him under his wing and showed him how to dress punk and walk with confidence, even girls started to notice Frank at school. There were only a couple of girls who hit on him or tried talking to him—girls that wanted to date that cliché badboy while they still had the chance—and it flattered him. He always turned them down though. (Not mentioning to them that it was because he had a boyfriend who was working as an artist in the city of course.)

As it was, Frank was stuck in detention again, waiting an extra hour to go home because he and a senior had gotten caught writing obscenities on the cafeteria wall. The detention supervisor was reading a magazine so Frank just texted Gerard with his cellphone in his lap. Gerard was scolding him, but Frank didn’t really care. They both knew Gerard did the same kind of thing in school—except he probably doodled on the wall or something a little more creative than writing “asshole” in funky script.

“I’m on my way home for the weekend,” Gerard said over text.

“Will I get 2 c u?” Frank texted back.

“Well I hope! Why else would I come?” Gerard added a smiley face and Frank fought to keep the massive grin from spreading across his face. It was always exciting when Gerard came back to Jersey.

“Can we go on a date?”

“Where do you want to go?”

All Frank could think to send back was a smile. Finally, an actual date! Sure, he and Gerard got to watch movies and order pizza, but it was very rare they actually got to go out. And now that Frank was practically seventeen his mother shouldn’t have any complains about him and Gerard going out alone.

“Ask your mom,” Gerard said.

Frank sent a frowny face and then quickly slipped his phone back into pocket. He felt eyes on him and didn’t want caught. When he looked up, the teacher was looking at him shaking his head. Frank sighed and stared down at his opened text book to pretend to study. At least this detention monitor wasn’t an asshole… The others would’ve just taken his phone and held it, or make him stay even longer.

Frank didn’t think he could wait any longer. He wanted to see Gerard. It would be a while before Gerard got home—and he’d probably visit his parents first—and then it would still be a while before Gerard came to see him. Frank was already so impatient. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard had never been fully honest with Frank. Not really. He tried, but there were just certain things about _dating_ an underage person that were difficult. It also didn’t help that Frank had come to him so damaged. Their “love,” if that’s what it was, was built around nothing but a shared history of bad sexual experiences. Every time Gerard would kiss Frank or even hold his hand, it felt wrong. He felt like he should ask if Frank was sure it was what he wanted—if he was sure he wasn’t just confused or lonely—but Frank seemed confident in his actions. Frank always had shown affection for Gerard—probably even before he knew about how wrong things had gone between Gerard and his former lover…

It wasn’t that Gerard didn’t care for Frank or wanted to “break up,” he just didn’t like being exclusive. At college he’d had several one night stands and even a couple of relationships that lasted more than three months. He never told those guys about Frank and he never thought to tell Frank about them either. It would just break Frank’s heart. 

Even though the trauma Frank had endured seemed to be mostly healed, he still flinched if Gerard held him too close or kissed him too long. He was still wounded and he wasn’t ready for that side of relationships yet. Gerard was… Gerard _needed_ that. And if Frank never found out that he’d been “cheated” on, he figured that it would never really matter what he did at college in New York so long as it didn’t happen in Jersey. 

In some respects, Gerard saw himself as faithful to his underage boyfriend within their home state, but not anywhere else. Not really…

When he visited home, Gerard always saw his parents first and Frank second. He had to wait for Frank to get his mother’s permission before he could over, and even then he had to mentally prepare himself for Frank’s mother’s cruel stares. The woman didn’t like him. She didn’t like him near her son but tolerated it because she knew Gerard wouldn’t really hurt Frank, that Frank confided in him and trusted him. And she trusted Gerard to let her know if something _bad_ happened again.

So when Gerard got the text from Frank saying that his mom gave him permission to go out on a date, he took out his wallet and checked it for cash. He had a twenty and that was all he could spare. Everything else was what he needed to get back to his apartment in the city.

“Here.”

Gerard turned to look at his mother who handed him two more twenties. 

“Take Frank to the movies or something. I don’t think he gets out that much,” his mother said.

“Is there anything good showing?” He asked. His mother scowled at him and then tossed him the newspaper. 

“See for yourself.”

There really weren’t any appealing films, but Gerard made note of some showtimes on the off chance that Frank wanted to see one. Otherwise Gerard would just take him out for dinner and maybe they could go to the arcade or something. Someplace safe…

( ) ( ) ( )

By the time Gerard arrived, Frank could barely contain his excitement. He’d been sitting on the couch backwards, staring out the window just waiting, waiting, waiting. When he saw Gerard, Frank bolted up and ran for the door. His mother, who was sitting in the chair across from him, shook her head at his enthusiasm. She didn’t really support the relationship, but Frank was certain she’d given up convincing him that his affection for Gerard was sinful and wrong. 

There was a time she’d had a sit-down talk with him to tell him that it was wrong in the eyes of God for him to lust for other men. She told him that she understood he was “confused” because of what Ronnie had done, but assured him he didn’t have to be that way forever. When her religious pleas didn’t work, she tried scaring him by saying the sex would be just as painful as it had been with Ronnie. Frank tried to brush it off, tried to act like it didn’t tear through all the walls and barriers he had around those awful memories.

He tried not to let it get to him when he thought about himself and his relationship with Gerard. 

Frank had plans for them… He had ideas and wants. He had fantasies and daydreams. Gerard, he knew, could be trusted. No matter what his mother said, Gerard would never, ever hurt him like that. Gerard would know how to make it so it didn’t hurt, right?

“You made it!” Frank said, running out the front door and immediately wrapping his arms around Gerard in a tight embrace. His boyfriend held him in return, laughing and patting him heavily on the back. Frank had gotten taller over the past few years—not enough to be taller than Gerard, but he hoped that one day he might be able to surpass him—and he was able to comfortably rest his head on Gerard’s shoulder when they hugged. 

“Of course I made it,” Gerard said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They went through all the usual questions as Frank led him inside: how had they each been? what had they been doing? When Gerard got into the house, Frank’s mother asked the same question again, only more focused on work and how he managed to pay his rent with an artist’s paycheck. It was cheeky and snide, and Frank didn’t appreciate it, but he wasn’t about to start a fight with his mom. 

After about an hour of formalities, Frank and Gerard slipped out of the house with no real destination in mind. Gerard brought up the movies and Frank pretended to be interested just for the sake of getting out of the house, but they went out to eat at a China buffet instead. 

“I can’t get over it,” Frank said, laughing as he picked at his plate of rice and cooked vegetables. “It’s been forever since we’ve gotten to hang out. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Gerard said, flashing a quick, awkward smile that made Frank melt inside. Gerard looked nervous and adorable, and the more Frank stared the more that horribly gushy feeling grew. 

Frank actually felt like a couple now, now that he was old enough to go out with Gerard without people thinking they were brothers because of the age difference. Also, the clothes Ray had gotten Frank in complimented Gerard’s style perfectly. They weren’t as feminine as Gerard’s skinny jeans and girl’s sunglasses, but a striped sweatshirt with ripped up wrists and baggy jeans gave the same message—I’m troubled, don’t mess with me. 

“Um…Gerard, I was thinking,” Frank said, forcing himself to just dive into it instead of wasting time babbling about something stupid in hopes that the conversation could be brought up more easily.

“Hm? But thinking is dangerous—don’t they teach you that in school?” Gerard asked, laughing at his own joke even though the worried look in his eyes showed that he knew it wasn’t so simple.

“No, really…” Frank tried to keep smiling just so Gerard wouldn’t panic. “I’m…I’m almost seventeen now and—”

“Not until October. It’s May, Frank.”

“I know, but…” Frank kept trying to smile through it, trying to hide the butterflies in his stomach. “I want to…um.” The more anxious Gerard looked, the less confident Frank became. He’d almost forgotten that Gerard was almost as messed up as he was and making propositions weren’t the safest. But they’d been together for almost three years already. Surely they were ready for a little more than quick kisses and the occasional heavy hand. 

“Frank, you’re still underage.”

“I don’t care,” Frank said, looking down at his plate. “Gerard, I… You know I’ve had a crush on you since forever. I mean, that was obvious. I couldn’t even sit at a table with you without losing my fuckin’ mind.”

“Yeah, you were a weird kid,” Gerard said, laughing nervously and staring down at his plate as well. He seemed uncomfortable, and not even the good kind—if there was such a thing. It wasn’t an embarrassed discomfort, more of a “can we end this discussion now it’s revolting” kind of discomfort.

“Do you even want to date me?” Frank asked.

“Yes, I do,” Gerard said, looking up and looking genuine. 

“Are you sure? Because you don’t like touching me.”

“You’re jailbait,” Gerard whispered, looking around at the other tables. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“No one would have to know,” Frank said. “I just… I don’t like _this._ I don’t like having a pretend boyfriend, because that’s how it feels. I get a kiss, but hardly. It’s like you don’t want to touch me.”

“Because I don’t want to go to jail. You know what they’ll do to a guy like me in there. I wouldn’t last a minute.” Gerard actually looked afraid of the thought. And for good reason. He was feminine—so feminine. If he dressed like a girl, he could fool anyone, Frank was certain. Especially with his long hair. 

“I wouldn’t tell…”

“Your mom would know. She knows things—she’s scary. How do you live with her?”

“She’s not psychic!” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “Look, relationships are not just…mental things. You know? They’re supposed to be physical. It’s not fair if it isn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Gerard asked, sighing and leaning back in his seat.

“I know you were with other guys in college,” Frank said, trying to ignore the stab of pain. He’d always had the fear Gerard would cheat, and that fear had been confirmed more than once when he would call and hear another guy in Gerard’s room. It wasn’t just a voice, either. It was a voice saying “I’ll call you later, babe” or “see you tonight.” Then there had been the time last winter when Gerard’s scarf had come unwound a little and the hickeys on his neck showed. 

Frank had been jealous and heartbroken, but it made him face the facts. Relationships were physical, and he’d never be able to have a real relationship if he didn’t take it to that level. And the only person he wanted to go that far with was Gerard. Even back when Ronnie had been around, Frank had wanted Gerard… He just couldn’t bring himself to think of actually doing it. Not until now.

Frank was ready to have Gerard all to himself, and he was willing to do whatever it would take.

“Did you hear what I said?” Frank asked, looking at Gerard who had turned much paler than usual. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, biting his lip anxiously and looking anywhere but at Frank’s face. He was picking at his hands under the table, then he started scratching at his wrists and then his arms. “I’m… I’m sorry, but—”

“I know why it happened,” Frank said. “I was mad for a while but I can’t blame you. They gave you what I couldn’t. All that matters is that you want to be with me… Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, still looking too anxious for comfort. He looked like he was willing to say anything to make the situation go away.

“Gerard.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said again, a little more forcefully. “It was wrong and I felt bad, but… I couldn’t ask you to do that, and you weren’t there.”

“I know,” Frank said. He repeated it almost immediately with more conviction. “I know. I reasoned it out with myself. I wasn’t there, I wasn’t available, it wasn’t my fault. But if we do…you know. I have to be the only one. If we do that I don’t want you to be with someone else just because I live here and you’re in the city.”

“That…would be fair,” Gerard said, nodding. 

“And maybe then you’d want to come around more…”

“I don’t try to avoid coming home,” Gerard said, slowly reaching a hand across the table to touch Frank’s. “I don’t avoid you.”

“I hope not,” Frank said.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re underage. I’m not…gonna go to jail for it. I don’t want to go to jail, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ve already been hurt,” Frank said, shrugging. “There’s not much else that can happen to me.”

“Don’t say that,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “More can always happen.”

“Gerard… Let’s just _try_ something. We don’t have to go all the way.”

“Can we not talk about this in public?” Gerard said, looking around at the other diners who were not paying them any mind. 

“Fine,” Frank said, looking back down at his plate and sighing.

“Frank?”

“I said fine,” Frank muttered. 

“I know,” Gerard said, his voice much more gentle. “We’ll talk in the car. I wanna finish dinner, then we can…talk about it.”

“Fine,” Frank said again, knowing he’d lose. Once again, Frank was revisiting old pain. He feared that Gerard would get him out of the public eye just to tell him that he didn’t want to see Frank exclusively, that he _never_ wanted to touch Frank, that their relationship was a lie Gerard created just to shut Frank up when he’d been a kid.

( ) ( ) ( )

When they left the restaurant, Gerard drove around with Frank until it was nearly dark. They ended up in the back of a Wal-Mart parking lot under a burnt out light. There were other cars around, but not too many, and no cops at this end of town. They were all busy busting up gang fights and trying to prevent mass shootings…

“Come here,” Gerard said, getting out of the car only to climb into the backseat. 

“I don’t want to,” Frank said, staying in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He was really just pouting, but Gerard knew Frank was hurt even if he didn’t want to admit it. In the past years, Frank had hardened himself. He was colder, less transparent and much more hostile. If he felt cornered, he lashed out. If he felt he was being lied to, he said it. Gerard liked this new side of Frank and had done his best to nurture it whenever he did come around for visits. It was better than the shy, painfully awkward preteen Gerard had once known. 

“Frank,” Gerard said, feeling awkward from his seat in the back. 

“Do you even—”

“I love you,” Gerard said. “Come here.”

Frank sighed and climbed between the front seats in order to join Gerard in the back. 

“I want you to be honest,” Frank said quietly. 

“I do love you,” Gerard said, reaching out to stroke Frank’s cheek. “I’m… I’m weird about it, you know. I really _am_ afraid of going to jail, you know? I don’t… I was in juvie before, I got beat up a lot, it wasn’t a good time. Real jail is a lot worse with a lot less security.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Frank mumbled. 

“Your mom will know, alright? That kind of thing…it shows.”

“We don’t have to go all the way,” Frank said. “I just… it’s not fair! You’re my boyfriend. You agreed to be my boyfriend. We should act like a couple.”

“It’s not that easy for us,” Gerard said quietly, still stroking Frank’s cheek. “Not yet.”

“Are you ever…going to want me like that?” Frank asked, looking out the window instead of looking at Gerard. 

“I do want you like that,” Gerard said. It wasn’t a lie. When Frank hit fifteen, he’d immediately started to lose his juvenile appearance. He looked more mature, and the gleam in his eyes had turned from troubled to _trouble._ He became attractive. But he was still _jailbait._

But Frank just didn’t seem to understand that, and he wasn’t _going_ to understand it. Gerard had to stifle the groan in his throat when he forced himself to give in. Yes, he was afraid he was going to be turned in and arrested, that he’d lose everything he’d worked for in his life. But he’d also made a promise to Frank long ago and he was afraid of what the consequences would be if he broke it. 

“Come here,” Gerard said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto Frank’s lips when his boyfriend started to say he didn’t want to sit any closer to him. Frank fought the kiss at first and Gerard was prepared to back off, but just as he moved to pull away, Frank leaned forward. Frank was the one who started kissing with tongue, who placed his hand on the curve of Gerard’s neck to keep him from resisting. 

Frank was the one who slid his hand under Gerard’s shirt, who scooted closer on the seat and moved to sit in Gerard’s lap. Gerard put his hands on Frank’s hips, tilting his head as they worked their tongues together. When Frank rutted himself against Gerard, the older boy slid one of his hands down from Frank’s hips to rub him through his dark jeans. 

This was typically as far as they ever went, working each other up only to have to break away before one of them moaned and alerted one of Frank’s parents—whoever’s house they were at. 

Frank moaned now, but there was no one around to hear them. It was a needy sound, but also euphoric. He knew they would go further—how far, though, Gerard wasn’t quite sure. Not all the way…but maybe halfway there. Maybe a little further. Whatever it would take for Frank to calm down and stop his worried thoughts. 

For the first time, Gerard undid the button of Frank’s jean. For the first time, Gerard pulled down the zipper and dipped his hand inside. Frank moaned happily, still fueling their wet, sloppy kiss. 

However, when Gerard took it a little further and pulled Frank’s boxers out of the way, the boy immediately broke the kiss and leaned back panting. He looked anxiously back and forth from the car windows, but Gerard knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of getting caught.

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, leaning forward to kiss Frank’s neck. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t… Just don’t look at it okay?” Frank said, his tough attitude crashing and showing his vulnerability again. 

“I won’t,” Gerard said, not pushing it. If Frank didn’t want seen, Gerard wasn’t going to struggle in the dim light to get a look. “Just come here.”

Frank leaned back down into the kiss. He was gentler this time, his nerves beginning to get the best of him until Gerard wrapped his hand firmly around his erection. Frank moaned then and his hips bucked forward involuntarily. Within seconds, Frank was back to how he had been before; he was kissing deeply and moaning, running his hands through Gerard’s hair and down his sides. 

Gerard moved his hand a little faster, almost smirking when Frank’s little moans became sharper. It was an ego boost to know that—other than that sick bastard who’d raped him—Gerard was the only one who’d ever done this with Frank, that he was the only one Frank wanted. It made him feel guilty for going behind Frank’s back when he’d been at college, but college was a different world. It was like its own country… Gerard knew Frank meant it when he said that if they did go all the way that he wouldn’t be allowed that freedom to see whoever he wanted as soon as he left Jersey. He didn’t like the idea, but he knew it was fair.

Gerard let out a sharp hiss when one of Frank’s hands slid down the front of his tight jeans, gripping him and tugging almost painfully until the jeans were out of the way. He was almost content to let this be their night—to just move one step past where they’d always gone before—but Gerard felt Frank deserved a little more than that. Maybe it was the guilt that finally reached him now that he’d been called out on cheating, and maybe it was something else…either way, Gerard pushed Frank gently back and coaxed him into lying down on the backseat. 

“I said not to look,” Frank whined, starting to look anxious as Gerard loomed over him.

“I promise,” Gerard said. “I promise you won’t mind in a minute, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?” Frank asked, trying to sit up in the seat and pull away.

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s neck softly and stroking him again. 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to look,” Frank said, staring over head at the ceiling of the car. 

“Then I’ll shut my eyes,” Gerard said, giggling a little to keep Frank calm. He didn’t want Frank to feel forced, but he _knew_ the moment he went down, Frank wasn’t going to care if Gerard saw him or not. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Frank said. “I just… I don’t—I don’t know… I asked you not to look.”

“I’ll shut my eyes,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s neck and then kissing him on the mouth before making a show of closing his eyes even though it was dark in the car. He slid further down the seat and then lowered his mouth onto the head of Frank’s cock.

Frank’s whole body stiffened, going rigid until his back arched off the seat as Gerard took him slowly all of the way into his mouth. When Gerard swallowed around him and pulled back up, Frank let out a tiny “oh” and his hips started twitching, betraying his pleasure. 

Gerard began bobbing his head up and down, trying to avoid using the tricks he’d learned at school. He wanted there to be some surprises for later, but he didn’t want to leave Frank wanting for more. He ran his tongue over the tip, teasing the slit and tasting the precum before going back down and sliding his tongue along the vein underneath. 

Rather than making Frank touch him, still so nervous that he’d make Frank have a flashback or even remember those days when he’d been forced to touch another man, Gerard started stroking himself. He really wasn’t focused on getting himself off, but he was afraid that if he didn’t, Frank would read into it and think something was wrong.

At the time being, Frank was almost instantly a whimpering mess, and Gerard had to hold his hips to keep him from bucking into his mouth. He didn’t like pinning him down, afraid a bad thought would hit and Frank would think he was being trapped, but he didn’t want to have Frank gag him. 

Gerard kept pumping his own erection in time with his movements on Frank’s cock, and with a little help from his own imagination, Gerard was able to reach the edge shortly before Frank—aiming into his underwear in fear of leaving evidence on the seat.

It didn’t take long at all for Frank to reach his climax, spurting into Gerard’s mouth with no warning other than a loud, choked moan. Gerard really had no choice but to swallow, and when he pulled off, Frank was staring up at him with lidded eyes.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“That’s what that feels like,” Frank said, staring through Gerard at the roof of the car. 

“You good?” Gerard asked again. 

Frank nodded and then held up his arms, not moving until Gerard leaned awkwardly down and hugged him. 

“I don’t want to go home,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Gerard’s neck and clinging to him. When Gerard tried to pull away, his back hurting him from the angle, Frank just held him tighter. “I really don’t want to go.”

“Your mom will lose her mind if I _never_ take you home,” Gerard said, using a playful tone. He didn’t want Frank to turn into an emotional mess—he just wanted to wait for him to come down from the high. 

“I wish you could stay,” Frank whispered. “Do you think she’d let you stay?”

“No,” Gerard said. “You know she’s a good Catholic woman. She won’t want me cuddling you in your bed.”

“You could sleep on the couch. We can go home and watching _Cats.”_

“We could do that, but you know I can’t stay.”

Frank looked like he might start to cry and Gerard pulled him up on the seat, helping to tuck him back into his jeans so he wasn’t so exposed. 

“I don’t like this,” Frank said.

“Don’t like what?” Gerard asked, concern hitting him. That wasn’t exactly the ideal thing to hear about a first experience.

“I don’t know,” Frank said, sighing and trying to work his defenses back up. “I don’t want you to go…and I don’t like that I _really_ don’t want you to go.”

“Well, if I could live under your bed and come out at night when you need me, I would,” Gerard said, smiling and kissing Frank on the cheek. Frank just sighed and cuddled close on the seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re… You’re just comfortable.”

Gerard laughed and settled down in his seat. He had a feeling they’d be here for a while before Frank decided it was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this made up for the long wait! We can pretend that the months it took me to update were the years passing in between chapters ^_^; Hopefully I'll see you all again soon!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and that's it's so short--making the wait next to wasted time ): I'm really trying hard to regenerate my inspiration for this story, but it's really hard because Frank and Gerard are in relationship limbo and it bums me out every time I write it, but saying "never mind, suddenly they're happy" is a cop out so I have to muddle though it which I'm bad at. Sorry again, hope the update is slightly worth it!

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

Saturday morning, Gerard was woken up by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. It took him a moment to remember where he was, not used to waking up in his teenage bedroom. 

“Hello?” Gerard said, sniffing through his sleepy daze and rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey. It’s me—Frank.” Frank giggled in his ear and Gerard grunted as he looked to his alarm clock. It was ten-thirty in the morning… Why was Frank calling him so early on a Saturday? How was he so energetic this early on a Saturday? “Oh… Did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” Gerard muttered, not yet awake enough to censor himself and sound more pleasant.

“I’m sorry… Um, well, Ray and I were gonna get together and play this afternoon and I thought you might want to come hear us,” Frank said. “It’d be nice if you could come. You haven’t gotten to meet Ray and he wants to meet you.”

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, not because he didn’t want to go but because he was still mostly asleep. “It’s really early. Why are you awake?”

“Mom wakes me up,” Frank said bluntly. 

“What time are you meeting Ray?” Gerard asked, wrapping up more in his blankets and closing his eyes, already prepared to fall back asleep.

“About one, I think,” Frank said. 

“Where at?” Frank told him, but Gerard was too sleepy to catch anything he said. “Mm, I’ll try to make it.”

“I really want to see you again,” Frank said, his tone changing to sound a little more desperate. Gerard knew _exactly_ what Frank wanted and it had little to do with Ray and music. Gerard had showed him what sex could actually feel like when it was consensual and Frank wanted more. 

“If I don’t make it, I’ll take you to dinner tonight,” Gerard said. “I’m tired.”

“It would mean a lot if you could hear me play,” Frank pressed.

“I know,” Gerard said, sighing. “I’ll try, Sugar, but I’m half asleep. I don’t know if I’ll be awake by one.”

“Okay,” Frank said, sounding a little defeated. Gerard had thought calling him a petname might perk him up a bit, but it didn’t work. “But I will get to see you today, right?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. 

“Do you think we could…mess around a little again?”

“Maybe,” Gerard muttered. “We’ll see.”

“Okay… Did I do something wrong? You sound mad.”

“I’m sleepin’, Sugar,” Gerard said. “It’s okay. I’m just tired. I was up all night thinking about how hot you are—and how much I wanna see you again.” Gerard hoped if he mumbled out a few seductive words, Frank would be fine and he could go back to sleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear from his young _lover,_ he just wanted to sleep a little bit more.

“Really?” Frank asked, giggling and with a blush coming through in his voice. No matter how tough Frank dressed himself to look or how confident he tried to act, he was still just a bashful kid and Gerard couldn’t help but to admit that it was cute. 

“Of course,” Gerard said. “I’ll try to meet you later. Text me the address or something, alright?”

“Okay,” Frank said. “I love you.” 

“Love you, too. Be good.”

“Be good?”

“I dunno—I’m tired. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Frank said, laughing at him. 

“Bye,” Gerard repeated, sighing as he hung up the phone. Just before he set the phone aside again, he set an alarm for twelve and then let his eyes fall closed. Within seconds, he was back asleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

After a half hour of playing with Ray and the rest of the small band, Gerard still hadn’t showed and Frank felt his heart sink. He knew Gerard would keep his word and take him out later, but he really just wanted his boyfriend to hear him. Gerard loved music and they’d always talked about bands and how Frank was doing in the band. Gerard wrote song lyrics and Frank had always hoped he’d write a song for him so that he could play the guitar for it and make it into a real song. He wanted Gerard to hear how good he’d gotten… He wanted Gerard to meet his friends.

He didn’t understand why Gerard didn’t feel the same way. Why did he need to sleep past one o’clock? Why couldn’t he just get up early—just for Frank? Just to show how much Frank meant to him… Or if he meant anything at all.

When Gerard didn’t show up, it made doubt creep into Frank’s heart. It hurt more than Frank wanted to admit, and there were several times during the practice he had to feign needing the bathroom so he could go get his emotions under control before he started crying. He tried talking himself up—telling himself that he’d see Gerard later and he knew Gerard would _really_ make it up to him in the best of physical ways…but he didn’t want it. 

Frank didn’t want the sex anymore. He just wanted his boyfriend to take interest in him. 

“There’ll be other times, Frank,” Ray said, shrugging. “It’s not like he’ll _never_ get to hear us.”

“He’s not home very much. It’d be nice if he just did something for _me_ for once,” Frank mumbled.

They went back to playing, Frank doing worse and worse at each song until he was sure his friends were about to beat him with their guitars and drumsticks. When they were about to finish, there was a sharp knock on the door to the garage that was barely audible over the sound of the guitars.  
Everyone looked at one another for a moment before Frank set his guitar down and rushed over to the door. When he opened it, Gerard was standing there looking sheepish in his deteriorating leather jacket and large sunglasses.

“You made it!” Frank called.

“Of course. I didn’t want to let you down,” Gerard said, opening his arms for a quick embrace before letting Frank lead him inside to show him off to his friends.

“Ray, this is Gerard,” Frank said, introducing his boyfriend to his best friend first. Ray offered his hand to Gerard who shook it awkwardly, showing that he had no real interest in touching anyone other than Frank. Fortunately, the other friends of Frank had little interest in touching Gerard either, and he was safe to stand with one arm wrapped around Frank’ shoulder in a lopsided and drawn out embrace. “We were about to finish up, but we could play a song or two for you then we can go get lunch or something. Right?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Gerard said, smiling awkwardly as he let Frank go. 

“One song,” one of Frank’s other friends said. “I’ve gotta go out later.”

“Okay,” Frank said. They huddled together to decide on what song to play, then the drummer started a countdown from three before the music started…or the noise. 

The band was _okay…_ Frank was skilled, Ray was really skilled, but the drummer kept missing count (maybe for lack of practice, maybe for lack of skill), and his loss of the beat made the bass player mess up as well. It wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t exactly Gerard’s scene. Not that he’d ever admit that to Frank. He made a point to smile the whole time Frank played, and even laughed a bit when Frank winked at him after the song was over. 

“You were awesome,” Gerard said, clinging close to Frank as the younger boy packed up his guitar.

“You really think so?” Frank asked, reminding Gerard so much of the small child Frank had been when they’d first met. So desperate for approval, no lonely and needy—ready to jump at any indication that someone genuinely liked him or cared for him.

“Yeah I think so,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek quickly, not wanting Frank’s bandmates to see even though Frank assured him they wouldn’t mind. It felt wrong to be seen with Frank in public. Gerard really couldn’t wait for Frank to finally hit eighteen. Frank looked good playing guitar and he really did look grown up, but to Gerard he was still just a kid. And messing around with kids could land him in jail—real jail, not just Juvie.

When they left the house of Frank’s friend and got into Gerard’s car, it became unbearably obvious that Gerard’s fears weren’t just the result of an over active imagination or paranoia.

“So…my mom asked me if we’d had sex last night,” Frank said as the two of them got into Gerard’s car and closed the doors.

“What?” Gerard asked, his blood running cold. “Why—Why would she ask that? What did you _say_ to her?” It was hard not to sound accusatory, even when Frank started to look hurt.

“I don’t know! I told her no. She just…sprung it on me. Maybe she’s psychic—I don’t know.”

“It’s because you—” Gerard stopped himself short. He couldn’t let himself say what was on his mind, blame Frank because he’d been so clingy when Gerard had taken him home. Frank’s mother was obviously no fool, and she knew what it looked like when emotional love became physical. She’d probably been there once before, although it was strange to think of Frank’s cold, critical mother as a young, blushing lover. “You were out too late… She’s not dumb.”

“Say what you were gonna say,” Frank said, fixing Gerard with a cold glare.

“It’s nothing. I’m…I’m freaking out a little, okay? I don’t want to go to jail over this.”

“Mom’s not gonna send you to jail.”

“If she didn’t get mad about some college grad crushing on her high school kid, then something’s wrong with her. You’ve been hurt enough—”

“Shut up,” Frank said, his anger fading into hurt.

“—She’s not going to let it happen to you again. She’ll want to protect you, and to do that she’s either gotta get rid of me by asking or by sending me to jail. I’d like to wait until you’re old enough to not get me sent to jail.”

“I told her no,” Frank said. “I said no and she believed me. It was just weird that she knew…or thought she knew.”

“She _does_ know. She _knows_ you lied, she just can’t prove it. Does she know I’m with you today?”

“Yes,” Frank said. Gerard wasn’t convinced.

“Frank.”

“Yes! Yes, she knows. I told her. She wasn’t happy about it, but I don’t care! You’re _my_ boyfriend! It’s _my_ life! I can sleep with you if I want to.”

“No, you can’t,” Gerard said. “The law says you can’t, and I’m not getting arrested over this.”

“You’re not gonna get arrested! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Frank, I _love_ you. Okay?” Gerard looked at Frank, trying to show sincerity when all he felt was fear. Frank didn’t know what it was like to be caged in, to be beat up by “inmates” and guards alike. Gerard _didn’t_ want to go back there. He _couldn’t._ “I really, really do. Do you believe that?”

“Yes,” Frank said softly.

“Frank?”

“Yes,” Frank repeated, getting more agitated.

“And I love spending time with you. Okay?”

“Yeah. Get to the point.” Frank started to look more hurt than consoled, almost like he might start to cry. He thought he was about to be dumped.

“But I don’t want to go to jail. So maybe it would be best if we didn’t do any more stuff like _that_ until the fall. It’s only a few more months, Frank. I know you don’t see it the way I do, but I’m _scared,_ Frank. I don’t want to go back to that place.”

“Fine,” Frank muttered. 

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Gerard said.

“I know,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. He muttered something under his breath that Gerard didn’t catch.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Frank.”

“Nothing—it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t be like that, Frank…”

“I get that you don’t wanna go to jail—I don’t want you to either! But I already know you’ll just sleep with someone else behind my back anyway so it’s not like you miss out on anything.”

“I’m not gonna go behind your back—”

“You did before.”

“And I’m sorry, but we weren’t really _together._ ”

“And we won’t be when you go back!” Frank said, wiping at his eye when the tears started to well up. “I don’t want you to cheat on me.”

“I won’t, Frank. We’re getting serious now, okay? I want to have something real with you and…now that you’re not a _kid_ I don’t need to go to anybody else. I won’t.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t want cheated on. I just want to be with you—all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you. I _love_ you.”

“I love you too. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to us.”

“To you.”

“To _us._ Frank, you’d never forgive yourself if your mom had me put in jail. And you’d never forgive her either and that’s not what I want to do to your family. I want them to accept me, like how my family accepts you. They’ll never do that if they think I’m some old pervert creeping on their son.”

“Fine.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Just think, Frank—on your birthday, we can have all the fun you want. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” Frank asked, sounding skeptical.

“Anything. I’ll even dress in drag if that’s what gets you hot.”

“Ew,” Frank said, a laugh finally breaking the look of disdain on his face.

“I don’t want you to be upset. I came to see you and I want you to have a good time.”

“Did you actually like our music? I saw you cringing.”

“Ah, you caught that, huh?” Gerard asked, turning the key in the ignition of his car finally and starting it up. 

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t you—it was the drummer. He was off beat.”

“It’s a new song,” Frank said. 

“That explains it then,” Gerard said, offering a smile. “You were good. I like to see you play.”

“Really?” Like always, Frank started blushing when Gerard complimented him.

“Yeah. You look so hot playing guitar.”

“Don’t start with that—you’ll get me going then you’ll give me the ‘we can’t yet because you’re a baby’ talk,” Frank said, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, fine—but you did look hot. I’ll have it in the back of my mind for later when I’m all alone.”

“Ew—stop it!” Despite his protests, Frank was laughing, the last bits of sadness finally leaving his face. 

“Where do you want to go for food?”

Frank listed off a few restaurants, but they settled on a small diner in the middle of town. After getting lunch they went to the movies even though there was nothing particularly interesting showing, and then spent the rest of their evening sitting on a bench in the park. There wasn’t a lot for them to do, but Frank seemed pleased the whole time they were together. As soon as they sat down at the bench, Frank had taken Gerard’s hand to hold and hadn’t let go since, even when their palms started getting sweaty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I won't take so long to add the next chapter. As I said before, I'm really trying to get inspired, but it's hard because this fic is very sad. It just feels like such a downer even though I know there will be good things to come! (To me, this fic is kind of like depression personified.) I hope to see you back soon and I hope it's not an insult that I made such a short chapter. I really just wanted to give you all something since it has been so many months since I've posted.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long everybody! I wrote a good 14 pages before I realized I'd mistaken my timeline and had to rewrite it all, but I was determined not to let that prevent me from updating tonight. I hope you enjoy!

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

Gerard stared at the clock, he had been since ten o’clock. As soon as the digits turned to midnight, Gerard picked up his phone and pressed call.

“Hey!”

“Hey, babe,” Gerard said, smiling as he laid back on his bed. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks—you said you weren’t going to wait up to call me!” 

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you,” Gerard said, laughing a little at how happy Frank sounded.

“You’re still gonna come down tomorrow night, right?”

“You mean _tonight?_ ”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re still coming?” 

“Of course, Frankie. It’s your birthday. I gotta help you celebrate. There’s a party tonight, you wanna go?”

“Yes! I bet mom will let me, too, because it’s my birthday.”

“You still have to ask her,” Gerard said.

“Aw, but I’m eighteen now. She can’t tell me what to do.”

“She can if she’s the one who feeds you and keeps you in a house at night,” Gerard said, smiling still. 

“Hey…”

“What?”

“Do you…want to do more tonight?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Gerard said, cutting off the conversation before it could start, almost out of habit but also not willing to let his happy birthday call turn into a serious discussion. “How was school?”

“Ugh. I got detention.”

“Frank!”

“Teacher’s an ass—don’t want a lecture,” Frank said, laughing and rustling something on his end of the line. Gerard got the idea that Frank was lying in bed, nestled down in all his soft blankets. 

“I don’t know if I should be taking you to parties if you’re getting detention,” Gerard said in a playful tone.

“Aw. You’re breaking my heart, Gerard. Breaking it.”

“No I’m not.”

“Breaking it!”

“Shut up,” Gerard laughed. 

They went on to talk about the party Gerard wanted to take Frank to and Mikey’s friends who were hosting it. After a while, Gerard was finally forced to assure Frank that they would do _something_ physical to celebrate Frank’s birthday, but that didn’t necessarily mean they had to go all the way.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard drank more than he should’ve. He knew not to drink, he _knew not to drink_ when he was supposed to be driving Frank home, but he told himself that there was enough time before midnight for him to sober up before getting back in the car. 

Frankie seemed to be having a good time though. Gerard let him have a couple of beers, but steered him away from the hard liquor. That didn’t mean Frank didn’t steal a cup or two behind Gerard’s back, because two beers shouldn’t have had Frank so…relaxed.

At first, Frank had been nervous about the party. He was so much like Gerard had been at his age—nervous, shy, awkward. With age and with college parties under his belt, Gerard was a little more at ease in the crowd of people, and the liquor sure helped. At first, Frank wouldn’t even peel himself off the wall, but now he was letting Gerard dance with him in the middle of the room as though they were the only two people in existence. There were other couples all around—guys with girls, girls with girls—but they were the only male couple. It made Frank uncomfortable at first, but now he was so sloshed he didn’t seem to mind.

He kept leaning up to kiss Gerard’s chin, then his mouth. Once their lips met, they never seemed to separate for more than a second. Gerard had his hands on Frank’s hips, feeling them as they shifted when he danced. It reminded Gerard of the parties he had gone to when in college, when he’d get hammered and dance on whoever was close—when he pretended he didn’t have Frank back in New Jersey doting on him. Maybe Gerard got too caught up in those memories though, because as Frank was dancing, Gerard kept moaning and pulling him closer. Their kissing only got deeper and, mindless of the people around them, Gerard found his hand sneaking into the waistline of Frank’s jeans.

“Gerard,” Frank groaned, pulling back and looking up at Gerard with mixed lust and fear. 

“Hm, baby?” Gerard asked, looking around the room at all the other people. No one was looking at them, and that gave him a little more confidence to slip his hand further into Frank’s pants until his little boyfriend—finally, _finally_ legal—pressed all the way up against him.

“Not _here,_ ” Frank giggled. “I’m drunk.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank through his boxers. 

“Gerard!”

“Hm?” Gerard asked, pulling his hand away and putting it back on Frank’s hips. 

“Wanna…wanna go home. I don’t feel good,” Frank said, leaning his head against Gerard’s shoulder.

“I can’t drive yet,” Gerard admitted, guiding Frank to the corner of the room so they could relax by the wall for a bit. 

“I don’t feel good,” Frank repeated, looking up at Gerard and pursing his lips in a small pout. 

“Wanna go lay down?” Gerard asked, looking around the crowded living room. The couch was already full and he bet there was probably a couple already upstairs in the bed.

“Yeah…”

“We can…look upstairs. Maybe there’s a guest room or something…” So Gerard led him upstairs, tripping more times than he’d like to admit before finding the master bedroom of the house open and empty. “Here.”

“Are we allowed to just…”

“Who’s gonna stop us?” Gerard asked, giggling a little and leading Frank over to the bed after closing the door behind them and locking it. 

“Why did you shut the door?” Frank asked, looking fearful through his booze-high. 

“So no one tells us to get out. You need to lay down or you’re gonna be sick.” Gerard offered him a smile and then laid himself down on the bed. Frank slowly laid down next to him, still visibly anxious. “It’s okay—I’m not gonna…I won’t, you know,” Gerard said, not sure how to say it or make himself look believable after he’d already gotten his hand down Frank’s pants downstairs.

Maybe drinking at all hadn’t been such a good idea…

Gerard rubbed at his face while Frank slowly scooted closer and closer each minute until he was laying with his head on Gerard’s chest and one of his legs draped over Gerard’s. 

“I’m drunk—I’ve never really been drunk,” Frank moaned. 

“Never?” Gerard asked. 

“No… Mom doesn’t let me drink and Ray’s mom is like a…a bloodhound or somethin’. If we go to a party and she even smells a little bit of _anything_ she freaks out, so if we go anywhere we have to be really careful.”

“That sucks,” Gerard said, unconsciously reaching out to stroke Frank’s cheek and play with his hair. “Hope your dad’s not like that.”

“Why? Do I smell drunk too?” Frank asked, giggling again at how ridiculous he sounded. “Gerard?”

“Hm?”

“You’re really warm,” Frank said, nuzzling Gerard’s neck.

“So are you,” Gerard said, pulling Frank closer and rubbing his hips again.

“I like this,” Frank said absently, playing with Gerard’s shirt.

“Me or my shirt?” Gerard asked, suddenly feeling tired. He fought the urge to close his eyes, knowing if he did he would end up falling asleep.

“You…cuddling with me,” Frank said, smiling and giggling.

It was good to see him like this, Gerard thought. He wasn’t afraid of the people downstairs, his mind seemed to be off the strange man in the blue truck, and he looked like he was having a good time despite being drunker than Gerard would like.

“Gerard?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Nuuh.”

“Do you want to?”

“No—I gotta stay awake. If I get you home late your dad won’t ever let us go out again.”

“Then we gotta make it worth it, right?” Frank asked.

“What?” Gerard’s eyes snapped open—not even realizing they’d fallen closed—and he sat up a little. 

“We should…make it worth it?”

“Oh,” Gerard said, his eyes getting a little wider when Frank’s hand slid down his chest and stopped just above his belt buckle. “But..you’re drunk,” Gerard said. 

“Yeah, but I wanna. I _always_ wanna with you… And you promised.”

“No. You’re drunk,” Gerard repeated, making himself grab Frank’s hand and pull it away.

“We don’t have to go all the way,” Frank whispered. “I just…wanna.”

“You’re _drunk,_ ” Gerard repeated, rubbing at his eyes again. “You won’t be able to get off ‘cause you’re drunk.”

“Please?” Frank asked, making Gerard dizzy when he suddenly bolted up and moved to sit on his hips. With Frank staring down at him, Gerard suddenly found his hands squeezing Frank’s hips, his thumbs tracing small circles around the angel of his hipbones. 

“We can…do a little something maybe,” Gerard said, both kicking himself and reassuring himself that he and Frank had already messed around a little before so it couldn’t _possibly_ hurt. 

“Can I do…stuff to you this time?”

“Like what kind of stuff?” Gerard asked. “Not all the way kind of stuff, ‘cause you’re drunk and I’m drunk and your first time can’t be like that.”

Frank’s face fell and it took a moment for Gerard to realize what he’d said.

“It’s not my first time though…not really,” Frank mumbled.

“You want me to blow you, baby?” Gerard asked, trying to sit up but unable with Frank sitting on his hips. He didn’t want the mood to stay low. With alcohol in his system, Frank was prone to start crying at any moment.

“Can I blow you?”

“Why do you wanna do that?” Gerard asked, forcing himself to smile.

“Because I wanna… You did for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s your birthday. I wanna do stuff for you.”

“Let me do stuff for you first, then you can.” Frank smiled and started bouncing up and down on Gerard’s hips.

It was so hard to say no—especially when the warm body was already sitting on him, giving him a little friction before he even realized he was twitching his hips. 

“Okay, but when you realize it’s gross you can stop,” Gerard said.

“It’s only gross if you don’t like the guy,” Frank said, excitedly unlatching Gerard’s belt buckle and then hesitating. 

“What’s the matter?”

“What if I suck?”

“You’re supposed to—that’s what you’re supposed to do when you give a blowjob,” Gerard said before realizing how stupid he sounded and slapping himself in the face. “You’re not gonna be _bad_ at it as long as you don’t bite me.”

“Why would I bite you?”

“I don’t know…”

They had a few more lines of drunken dialogue before Frank finally managed to work Gerard’s jeans open. Twice Gerard stopped him before remembering that Frank was legal now and it was okay. He kept forgetting that it was Frank’s birthday—the only birthday that really mattered in the whole of their relationship.

“I know…not very impressive,” Gerard said once Frank finally had his jeans open. Frank was still just sitting on him, staring down as if he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at. He started chewing his bottom lip and then finally looked away, looking Gerard in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…” Frank shook his head and reached out with his hand, wrapping it slowly around Gerard’s erection. The way he just stared started making Gerard feel a little self-conscious. 

“Hey. I’m not gonna do anything to you that you don’t want, so don’t worry about it. Okay? I’m not gonna laugh at you or make fun of you—I don’t have my phone out, I’m not taking video… I’m not taking pictures,” Gerard started rambling, trying so hard to make Frank feel comfortable and get him to break that empty stare. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I don’t…know how to start,” Frank said, giving Gerard’s cock a gentle stroke. 

“Well…do what feel right?” Gerard said, not wanting to give any demands. Frank had been hurt before. He didn’t want to stir any memories or make Frank feel pressured even though the only one pushing was Frank.

Frank still hesitated and Gerard squirmed on the bed until Frank let him sit up. 

“You know what the problem is?” Gerard asked before kissing Frank gently on the cheek.

“What?”

“You’re psyching yourself out,” Gerard said. He slid his hand behind Frank’s head and kissed him on the mouth, then down to his jaw line and neck until Frank’s skin started to prickle with pleasure. When he finally got Frank to moan, Gerard started undoing Frank’s belt and zipper. 

“Maybe you should do me first,” Frank panted as Gerard started stroking him through his boxers. “I mean, it _is_ my birthday.”

“I can blow you, baby,” Gerard said, pulling away just long enough to resituate before taking Frank’s length into his mouth. Frank gasped and his hips instantly bucked forward. Frank’s fingers start tangling in Gerard’s hair, twitching every now and then with pleasure. Gerard couldn’t help but grin, even with his lips stretched around Frank’s cock. 

With the alcohol keeping him bleary, Frank took longer to finish than he had the first time. Gerard even managed to move from Frank’s length to his balls, eliciting a _scream_ of pleasure from Frank before the younger boy came, the ropes of seed ending up in Gerard’s hair. 

“Good?” Gerard asked, leaning back and wiping his mouth on his sleeve before grabbing the pillow case off the pillow behind his head and using it to rub the cum out of his hair. Frank just stared at him as he had before, but instead of looking empty his eyes were full of light—shining in the post-orgasmic bliss. “Yeah, you’re good,” Gerard said, chuckling and kissing Frank on the mouth. 

It surprised him when Frank started kissing back, adding tongue and moaning when he tasted himself on Gerard’s lips. It was fuckin’ hot. That was all Gerard could think when Frank climbed on top of him and then, after leaving a massive, dark hickey on Gerard’s throat, ducked down to fit the tip of Gerard’s cock into his mouth. 

Gerard sighed in pleasure, but tried to keep himself from getting too caught up to pay attention. Frank’s former moans had all gone quiet, and though he was swirling his tongue around the head of Gerard’s member, he was sliding back into self-consciousness. 

“Feels so good,” Gerard panted, hoping that comforting words and praise would help Frank feel a little better a less awkward about the whole thing. “Really fuckin’ good,” Gerard added when Frank took a little more of his length and started sucking. He didn’t try fitting the whole thing, and with a little coaching from Gerard, thought to wrap his hand around the base of Gerard’s cock. “Been thinking about this forever, Frankie—you’re so fuckin’ hot. Fuck!”

Gerard gripped at the bed sheets, refusing to grab onto Frank in fear that it might make him feel trapped or compelled to try fitting more into his mouth than he could handle. 

Frank’s inexperienced moves were enough to get Gerard going, but with the alcohol in his blood it wasn’t enough to get him off. Gerard started envisioning other things, imagining what it might feel like to be inside Frank for the first time and what sounds he might extract. 

“You’re so good at this,” Gerard panted, even though he’d most certainly had better. Maybe someday he’d be able to teach Frank some new things… Maybe sometime after they had sex for real.

With a few more dirty images in mind, Gerard found himself on the edge. He wanted to give Frank a warning before he came, but instead of words, a loud moan came out of his mouth and seconds later Frank pulled back. 

“Come here,” Gerard said through his moans of pleasure, reaching up for Frank. 

It scared him when Frank pulled away.

“Hey—hey, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?” 

Frank was looking down at the bedspread, swallowing hard between labored pants.

“Are you okay?”

Gerard groaned as he made himself sit up, quickly tucking himself back into his jeans before putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“I thought I was gonna throw up,” Frank mumbled, shaking his head and then scooting closer to Gerard on the bed rather than retreating. “I feel sick…”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, feeling relived to know that Frank wasn’t scared of him.

“I’m cold.”

“Aw, come here,” Gerard said, almost forgetting they were in a stranger’s bed when he wrapped Frank up in the blankets until they were both hiding under the sheets like children. 

Frank tucked himself back into just jeans and fastened his belt with shaking hands, and once he was decent he curled as close to Gerard as he could get, kissing him on the cheek and neck before making as if to go to sleep with his head on Gerard’s chest. 

“Gotta stay awake, baby,” Gerard said, petting Frank’s hair. 

“I’m tired.”

“Gotta stay awake,” Gerard repeated, shaking Frank a little. 

“I don’t want you to go home tonight… I wanna stay with you.”

“Your mom won’t let me stay over,” Gerard said softly.

“Maybe I can stay at your house. It’s my _birthday._ I don’t want to be alone,” Frank whined, snuggling closer until he was lying on top of Gerard.

“We can call her,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head. 

“We’ll say you’re too tired to drive me home…”

“She’ll think I’m drunk. You are _not_ telling her that.”

“You are drunk. And I’m drunk… And she said if I got drunk I’d get grounded.”

“I told you to stay off the liquor,” Gerard said, unwilling to take any of the blame. Two beers would not get Frank this inebriated. Even if he hadn’t been falling-on-his-face drunk, he was still out of it. 

“I wanted to have fun. I thought if I was drunk I would relax. I feel relaxed. I wanna sing _Cats._ ”

Gerard started laughing and kissed Frank’s head multiple times.

“You wanna sing _Cats,_ huh?”

“Yeah… Let’s sing—you can sing. Sing with me.” Frank started humming and then giggling, then crying. “I don’t want you to go home!”

“I have to,” Gerard said quietly.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Frank repeated. 

“I know… We can call your mom. Maybe she’ll let you sleep over.”

“No she won’t. She’ll yell at me. I don’t _feel good._ ” 

“I’ll call your mom, alright? I’ll see if I can take you home with me for the night.”

“She’ll say no,” Frank whimpered.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask,” Gerard said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket but staying under the blankets as he found Frank’s mother’s number in his phone. “I’m gonna lie to her, you know?”

“I don’t care. I’m not going home,” Frank said, holding Gerard tighter.

“Hush, it’s ringing—Hey, hi, this is Gerard.”

“Yes, I know that. What’s wrong?”

“Um… Frank’s kind of upset. He’s wondering if he can stay at my parents’ place tonight—”

“I told you I wanted him back by midnight.”

“No, I know, but he’s…a little upset. He just wants to stay here…”

Frank’s mother sighed heavily, fighting with the decision. 

“Fine. Have him back by noon tomorrow. You can buy him lunch or…whatever. Just bring my son home.”

“I will. Thank you—Frank, tell your mom thanks. Please?”

Frank groaned unhappily—half asleep—and mumbled out a thank you to his mother before Gerard ended the call.

“We do have to go, baby. Someone’s gonna be pissed when they see the mess we made.”

It took more than a bit of coaxing to get Frank back down the stairs and into the car, but once he was in the car, Frank found his second wind and was bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Can we watch _Cats_ when we get to your place? I haven’t seen that movie in _forever._ ”

“If you want to get your copy from your dad’s house,” Gerard said, doing his best to drive without looking suspicious to any nearby cops. Though most of the alcohol was out of his system, he was still drunk and he didn’t want arrested on Frank’s birthday. It would be such bitter irony to get arrested for drunk driving after his fear of arrest for his relationship with Frank was diminished. 

“No…”

“We should shower…and go to bed.”

“Can I take a shower with you?”

“No. My mom would have a fit.”

“But I’m _legal._ ”

“She still thinks you’re a kid. No.”

Frank started pouting, and continued to do so up until they arrived at Gerard’s parents’ house and Gerard had gotten out of the shower. Gerard’s parents hadn’t seemed surprised when Frank had come into the house, and Gerard’s mother had made a point to fawn over how nice it was to see Frank again. Gerard’s mother also made a point to scold Frank for obviously being drunk, but winked at him when her husband wasn’t looking, promising as well that she wouldn’t tell his father anything about it. Frank settled for washing his face in the bathroom sink, and then hurried down to Gerard’s basement bedroom where he was given an over-sized t-shirt to sleep in. 

Once the lights were off, Frank was a giggling mess as he waited for Gerard to cross the room to get into the bed. As soon as he climbed between the sheets, Frank latched his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and held him close. 

Gerard kissed him a few times on the mouth, smiling and nuzzling him and showing him every bit of affection he could knowing that in the morning Frank would have to go. They’d never gotten the chance to sleep side by side before and Gerard was still surprised that Frank’s mother allowed it.

“This is awesome,” Frank said, lying on top of Gerard rather than beside him in the tiny bed. 

“Yeah—a little,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the forehead and rubbing his shoulder. 

“Do you think when I graduate, we can live together?”

“You’ve gotta go to college.”

“I’ll go to college in the city and live with you.”

“Some campuses make you live in the dorms your first year,” Gerard said.

“So I’ll pay for a dorm and come stay with you,” Frank said, kissing Gerard’s neck.

“I’d like that,” Gerard said, not willing to let the conversation get serious. Maybe someday they would live together, but Gerard felt it wouldn’t be any day soon.

“I’d do your laundry—that _says_ something, Gerard. I’d do _laundry_ for you.”

“Well then I’d cook you dinner. It’d be shitty, but I’d cook dinner for you. That says something, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, giggling more and finally sliding off to lay at Gerard’s side. “I really like this.”

“Me too,” Gerard said quietly. 

Frank fell asleep quickly and rolled over so his back was to Gerard who rolled onto his side in order to remain close. He draped an arm over Frank’s side and moved his knees to fit with the bend of Frank’s, spooning him and burying his nose in Frank’s long hair. 

For a long time he’d felt guilty for being in a relationship with Frank, even when they had only been texting and talking on the phone. He felt bad, like he had somehow led Frank on into a relationship that couldn’t possibly have real love anywhere in its foundation. Now he knew that time was wasted.

Maybe Frank wasn’t like all the flings Gerard had had in college, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have legitimate feelings. With Frank’s warm body beside him in the bed, Gerard felt fulfilled, _happy._ It was an emotion his life had lacked when he’d first met the boy—the child—when he’d lived in this same basement as a recovering addict, a hermit. 

He loved Frank. Maybe it was wrong, maybe Frank _was_ too young for him, but Gerard didn’t want to let him go. Frank offered unconditional love, acceptance. Things Gerard had never gotten from anyone else besides his mother…

Maybe it was sick to love Frank for that. Frank only gave that affection because he’d latched onto Gerard while suffering under Ronnie. But Gerard loved him nonetheless, and he wasn’t sure who would be more upset come morning when Frank had to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to see you again soon though I can't guarantee a fast update considering how many fics I'm working on. Feel free to follow me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful for updates!


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

Gerard knew getting out of bed that morning would be hard, but not _this_ hard. Desperate to hold onto the rare opportunity to stay and sleep next to him, Frank clung to Gerard’s shirt when he tried to move away and started groaning in protest when Gerard sat up in the bed.

“I have to get up,” Gerard whispered, stroking Frank’s hair a little even though he knew it didn’t offer any comfort. The night they’d first gotten intimate in the car, Frank had practically cried because he didn’t want to go home. Gerard couldn’t imagine things going any better this time. “Come on—I don’t think my parents are awake yet. We can take a shower together.”

“No,” Frank whispered. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay with you. This isn’t _fair._ I don’t even have school today. Why is she making me come home so early?”

“She probably has something planned for you guys to do together,” Gerard said.

“I don’t care. I didn’t have to go see Dad, why do I have to spend time with her when I just want to stay with _you?_ ” Despite all of his protests, Frank allowed Gerard to haul him out of the bed. They crept upstairs together and then into the bathroom after reassuring themselves that no one else was awake. 

Frank continued to sulk as he stripped off the shirt he’d been wearing to bed, but went quiet as he watched Gerard undress. Gerard tried not to feel self-conscious, thinking that Frank loved him (Frank was obsessed with him) and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Frank was the last person in the world who would judge him, just as he would be the last person to judge Frank. 

“Come here,” Gerard whispered, leaning over the counter where Frank was sitting, still pouting even as Gerard kissed him on the lips. “I promise, this won’t be the last time we see each other, alright? Christmas break will be here before you know it—”

“It doesn’t matter. I still won’t get to stay with you. It’s not fair. Everyone else has boyfriend and girlfriends they get to see every day and I don’t. I hardly see you at all and I just want to spend time with you. It’s _not fair._ ”

“I thought maybe, since you’re eighteen, your mom might let you stay with me in the city for a couple of nights.”

“She’d never let me,” Frank whispered, sounding more like he was trying not to get his hopes hope than as though he believed what he was saying.

“I bet she would. You might have to be a little convincing, but I’m sure if you asked her for just a couple days she’d let you.”

“Wish it could be a week,” Frank muttered.

“Maybe in the summertime you can. Before you start college… You _have_ started applying to universities, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Frank said, rolling his eyes and sliding down off the counter. It worked as Gerard had hoped. The talk about furthering his education bored Frank enough that he was willing to get undressed and step into the shower once Gerard had it set to the right temperature. 

Under the fluorescent lights—much brighter than the dim lamps in the guest room at the party or in the shadows of Gerard’s car—Frank looked so much smaller. He shrunk in on himself, his hands going to cover the places Gerard had already seen before. 

Gerard thought that Frank would be less self-conscious with time if he made it obvious he wasn’t staring at the younger boy, but when Frank didn’t even want to accept the loofa Gerard handed him it became too much to ignore.

“Frank, I’m not going to judge you,” Gerard said.

“I know…but it’s weird.”

“Why is it weird?” Hoping it might help Frank relax, Gerard moved to stand behind him, forcing Frank to get closer to the stream of water so Gerard could wash his hair for him. Having his back to Gerard didn’t seem to remove any of the tension in his body, but it certainly didn’t make it any worse.

“I don’t know… I don’t want you to see something you don’t like and then…”

“Hey,” Gerard said, nudging Frank’s shoulder until the boy turned to look at him. “I love you, alright? I like what I see. Couldn’t get any better.’

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Frank muttered, turning his head back around as Gerard worked the suds through his dark hair. 

“Trust me on this, Frankie. I think you look perfect. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the one who’s all chubby…and pale.”

“I like you pale,” Frank said, turning around again and looking Gerard in the eye to prove he was sincere. “And I like you chubby.”

“See? But you admit I’m fat.”

“Not fat,” Frank said, staring Gerard dead in the eyes. “Chubby. I like it.”

“And I like you so that should settle it, right?”

“I guess,” Frank mumbled, turning around to rinse his hair. He finally moved his hands away from his groin but his eyes turned cold as soon as he caught Gerard looking down at him.

“Yup. Still hot.”

“Stop it,” Frank said, sounding like he was trying hard to sound angry when he really just wanted to laugh. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too attractive. I might go blind from it. You never know.” Gerard shrugged and started washing his own hair, giving Frank his space as he cleaned himself and rinsed off under the water. It was probably the least intimate shower he’d ever had with another person since he and Mikey had been kids and their mother bathed them together in the tub. Frank didn’t seem to want touched by him until they were both out of the shower and drying off with the towels. 

And it was at that exact moment that Mikey threw open the door Gerard hadn’t bothered to lock and barged in. At the same time he let out a loud curse and turned his face away, Frank screamed—a high and frantic scream although not quite effeminate enough to call girly—and then Gerard heard his parents’ bedroom come open as his mother shouted down the hall.

“What the hell are you boys doing?”

“Nothing!” Mikey yelled. “God, _nothing._ I didn’t see _nothing._ ” Yet his profuse string of curses said otherwise.

“Mikey, get out!” Gerard snapped when Frank hurried to hide behind him, trying to run while also trying to tie his towel around his waist. Gerard had settled for just standing with his towel in hand, letting it drape down his front enough to cover him but didn’t care at all about whether or not Mikey saw his chest or back…or legs…or whatever other pieces of skin Frank had showing. Gerard was almost certain that Frank, who had since dropped to his knees on the floor, was about to pull even the bathmat over himself in an attempt to hide.

“I’m going! God, I’m going—Jesus Christ. Lock the door if you’re gonna do that.”

“Why don’t you try _knocking_ for once in your life?” Gerard called after him.

“I wasn’t paying attention, you asshole. I didn’t think you were home.”

“Dude, you could’ve walked in on Ma,” Gerard said, even though Mikey had long since left and closed the door behind him.

“Ma locks the door!” Mikey shouted in return. 

Their mother said something and then there was the sound of two doors slamming as both Mikey and their mother went back to bed—or at least left the hallway.

“Sorry about that,” Gerard said, kneeling down in order to wrap Frank up in a gentle hug. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Frank whispered, still fumbling with his towel. “Scared me… I didn’t know who it was at first. I thought it was your dad.”

“Nah. Even my dad knows to knock when the bathroom door is closed.” Gerard sent a cold glare toward the door even though he knew Mikey wasn’t there and couldn’t see him. “Guess I’m too used to having my own place. You never have to lock the bathroom door in your own apartment. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah… I just need a second.” Frank’s heart was pounding like crazy. Gerard could even feel it when he helped to pull Frank up by his arm.

As soon as they had dried off, Frank was quick to put back on the clothes he’d wore to bed while Gerard was content to go back to his room in nothing but a towel. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was determined not to cry as he watched Gerard’s car pull away. His mother was asking him if he was feeling better, rubbing his shoulder because she actually believed that something had upset him the night before causing him to stay with Gerard instead of coming home. Perhaps it was the sadness showing on his face that made her believe his and Gerard’s story. Once Gerard’s car was down the road and out of sight, Frank felt his reserve breaking as he took in a quivering breath.

“What’s the matter?” His mom asked, squeezing his arm. “Did something happen between you two? Did you have a fight?”

Though she’d tried and tried convincing him over the years that Gerard was no good for him, that he needed to start showing interest in girls, that he needed to start finding a girl to take to prom instead of gushing over texts from Gerard, she was still gentle in her tone as she pried for more information. She never said “that’s what you get for choosing a boy for company,” or ask him what he expected to happen when clinging to an older man for so long. She just kept asking if he was okay, not taking yes for an answer.

“Frank… Just tell me. I’m not going to be mad,” she said, kissing the top of his head in a way she hadn’t since he’d been small, even before Ronnie. 

“I don’t want him to go,” Frank whispered, blinking back tears. 

“Oh?” His mother sounded both surprised and curious—coming to her own conclusions about why Frank was crying at the sight of his too-old boyfriend driving away. 

“I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again and…he’s my best friend. I love him. I don’t want him to go.” Unwilling to stand before his mother and weep like a child, Frank pulled away from her and shut himself up in his bedroom, locking the door even though he knew his mother could open it anyway. 

Frank hated the state he’d been reduced to. He clung to his pillow and wept, feeling like every girl in every bad teenage romance film he’d ever watched. He had nothing to cry about—he’d gotten to see Gerard, they’d slept side by side, they got to a little more…—but he couldn’t stop the tears. He just wanted to be with Gerard for more than a fistful of hours. He loved Gerard, and when Gerard had told him he loved him the past few times over their night together, Gerard _meant_ it. Frank could tell. It hurt so much to watch the man he loved (who loved him back!) drive away with no set day to return. 

Gerard could die on his way back to the city and Frank would never know… Not for days or months. Would Gerard’s family ever even think to tell him?

And even if Gerard did say he loved him and did mean it, that wouldn’t stop him from cheating again once he got back to New York. Frank didn’t want cheated on. It hurt before, but not as much as the thought did now. They’d _done things_ together. Gerard had no right to see someone else…but how would Frank know?

The longer he laid there crying, the worse he felt. Not only did he feel the pain of Gerard’s absence, he was starting to feel guilt for ruining whatever plans his mother might have had for them since he’d spent his birthday with Gerard. Every through he had just made him feel worse and worse until he was sobbing so hard he started to gag. That was when he forced himself to stop.

He had _nothing_ to cry about. He needed to stop. He just needed to stop…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard tried to sleep, but the bed was cold and felt empty without Frank. They’d started texting back and forth after Gerard got back home to his apartment, and almost all of Frank’s texts had come to him with frowning faces. His final text before going to bed had literally included asterisks followed by “crying myself to sleep.”

He’d never showed Gerard that much unhappiness. Never. He’d say he was having a bad day or had had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep, but never did he admit that he was crying himself to sleep out of sorrow. Gerard would’ve thought he was joking if he hadn’t spent the whole evening talking about how he was conflicted and feeling guilty for getting so upset. 

Gerard knew that feeling all too well—guilt for his feelings, angry at himself for something so far out of his control. He didn’t like knowing that Frank was so unhappy, but he’d known that it would happen after they started getting closer.

Part of the reason Gerard refused to make any additional passes at Frank that night. He knew that as soon as they had sex for real, Frank would be devastated every second they were apart. He would want Gerard with him, he would _deserve_ to have Gerard with him afterwards for as many hours as he needed to feel reassured that he was safe and not being manipulated or used. A weekend together wouldn’t be enough—an entire week together probably wouldn’t be enough either.

Gerard secretly hoped that Frank would apply to NYU, that he could live with Gerard instead of in a dorm so they could start their life together. He would never tell Frank that, though. He wanted Frank to make his own decisions and not feel swayed. 

Even with those hopes for the future as comfort, Gerard still couldn’t sleep. He felt guilty, he felt sorry for Frank… He really wanted there to be something he could do to help Frank feel better, feel less _abandoned,_ but there was only so much he could do from New York City.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Gerard picked up his phone and called Frank’s number. He couldn’t sleep and he doubted Frank was sleeping either.

“Hey, Baby,” Gerard said quietly. 

“Hey,” Frank said, sniffing.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Gerard whispered. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Frank said, his voice cracking. Seconds later he started to sob though he tried to muffle the sounds with his pillow or blanket. 

“I wish I could’ve stayed with you tonight, Baby, I really do.”

“Me too,” Frank whispered. “It feels wrong, you know? I miss you so much and I have no _reason_ to, but I _do._ ” 

“It’s not wrong… I feel the same way. I wish I could’ve stayed with you just another night, you know? Just one more night.”

Frank let out a sad, shaky sigh and Gerard could hear his blankets rustling on the other side of line, as though he may have been nestling back down to sleep. 

“Gerard?”

“Hm, Baby?”

“Please don’t cheat on me… I know that I’m down here and you’re in the city, but please don’t. I’ve never even gone on a date with anyone else but you. It’s not fair if you start seeing someone else.”

“I’m not going to see anyone else, Frank. I love you. Just you. And I already promised you after the first time we messed around that I wouldn’t see anyone else after that.”

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“When will we…you know? Will we ever?—I mean…” Frank sighed heavily, sounding sad and frustrated. “Do you even like me like that?—It’s okay if you don’t…I mean, it’ll suck, but you can tell me if you don’t see me that way.”

“Where is this coming from?” Gerard asked. “Frank, you _know_ I’m attracted to you—now more than ever since you’re legal and I don’t have to feel so damn worried and guilty. But, really, Frankie—what’s got you so worried?”

“I don’t know. Everybody else has their girlfriends and stuff and they see them all the time. I can’t help but think what good am I to you if I’m here in Jersey and you’re off in the city.”

“You’re everything I need,” Gerard said, forcing himself to huff out a little laugh. 

“Gerard, I’m nothing.”

“Why do you _say_ that?” Gerard asked.

“I just… We _can’t_ have sex. I know I’ll freak out. So what good am I? I mean…” Frank sniffed as he started crying again and Gerard let out a quiet sigh. “I just want to be with you, Gerard. I don’t want to be by myself and I still think you’re really cool.” Frank’s words turned into heavy sobs and Gerard wished he could just get back in his car and drive back down to Jersey to console him. There was only so much he could do over the phone…

“Frank, please believe me when I tell you that I love you regardless, alright? I _mean_ that. I’m not just saying it. I’ve grown up a lot since I was in college, you know? I’m not screwing around or going behind your back and I don’t want to. Don’t forget, I know how you feel. I was raped too—I know how scary it is to let someone that close again, even if you like them. The only difference is I _made_ myself do it with guys I didn’t even like afterwards just to prove I could. I’m glad you’re not like that. So please don’t get down on yourself because you’re scared. I can help you…”

“How?” Frank asked, sounding so hopeless that it nearly broke Gerard’s heart.

“Well…for starters, you’re scared that it’ll hurt, right? You’re afraid I’ll hurt you?”

“Yeah—but not on purpose. I know you won’t hurt me on purpose. I trust you—I really do…”

“So, who’s to say that the first time we’re together…you’re not the one on top?”

“Gerard, I _can’t!_ I’d—I’d fuck it up! I’d ruin _everything!_ I don’t know how to do that. I’d just fuck it all up…”

“I don’t think so,” Gerard said, scratching his eyebrow as he suddenly became anxious. He hadn’t meant to make Frank angry with the statement, but at least Frank wasn’t sobbing when he was shouting.

“Gerard—”

“I don’t typically top anyway. I mean, I _can._ Obviously I can, but I usually don’t.”

“But I don’t know how…”

“It’s pretty easy. And I can guarantee you won’t hurt me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But should I really—”

“Frankie, we don’t need to worry about this now. The thing about sex is—well, the thing I don’t think you like about it anyway—is that it’s something you don’t plan for. You don’t talk out a game plan, meet up and act it out. It’s spontaneous. You don’t like that, and I understand. But you have to be in the mood for it, and once you’re in the mood, things will…work themselves out.”

“I really wish you were here with me,” Frank whispered. 

“Me too,” Gerard said quietly. “You have school in the morning, though, Frankie. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sing to me and I will…”

“What do you want me to sing?—and don’t you dare say something from _Cats._ ”

“I already watched _Cats_ today. Mom and I watched it…”

“You really are upset, huh?” Gerard asked, knowing that one of the only reasons Frank watched that tape was when he was upset and wanted comfort.

“Yeah… Sing to me.”

“What should I sing?” Gerard asked again.

“I don’t know… Something you wrote.”

“Um… I could try.” Gerard tried to think up a song he’d scribbled down that he might remember off the top of his head, but decided to compose something on the fly instead. By the third time he reached the chorus, Gerard could hear Frank’s soft, even breaths and knew he could stop. Even so, Gerard still felt like he was abandoning Frank when he hung up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... There's one chapter left after this. Please don't murder me--I promise it'll be beautiful! (Kind of.)


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

Frank’s entire body was shaking as he stepped into Gerard’s apartment. He’d never been here before and it still felt like some kind of dream. Gerard had come to pick him up from his mother’s house and they’d gone to lunch in the city, holding hands and even kissing in public without any cold stares or harsh words. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own business to pass judgment and Frank began to feel as if he and Gerard were in their own little world together. 

It was all like some amazing dream—a beautiful fucking dream. 

“You want some soda? I got Pepsi in the fridge.”

“Okay,” Frank said, following Gerard into the apartment and clinging close to him. The place was messy, but it looked like Gerard had tried to straighten up and then ran out of time. There were pieces of artwork everywhere, all in different stages of completion, along with water glasses full of dirty water and paintbrushes. 

“Sorry my place is such a mess. I tried cleaning up, but…I get lazy.” 

“It’s fine,” Frank said, taking the can of Pepsi Gerard offered him and then wrapping his boyfriend up in a hug. His mom was going to let him stay a week. _A whole week!_ And Frank was going to make sure he spent every second as close to Gerard as he could possibly get. 

“Hey,” Gerard said, giggling and kissing the top of Frank’s head. “You wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, letting go and hurrying over to the couch. As soon as Gerard had put in a DVD and sat down beside him, Frank scooted as close as he possibly could and rested his head against Gerard’s shoulder.

Not even halfway through the movie, Frank had moved from sitting beside Gerard to sitting on him, straddling his hips and burying his face in Gerard’s neck. 

“You gonna watch the movie or what?” Gerard asked, squirming a little when Frank started nipping at the skin of his throat. 

“I wanna watch you,” Frank whispered, sucking on Gerard’s pulse until he extracted a moan. 

“I thought we were gonna wait until after dinner,” Gerard said, squirming a little more. Frank could feel Gerard’s slight erection pressing against his thigh and smiled against Gerard’s neck. 

He wasn’t scared. For the first time, Frank didn’t feel _scared_ at all. Maybe it was because Gerard just made him feel that safe, or if it was because he knew Gerard was going to let him be on top instead of the other way around. Frank was worried that he’d make a fool of himself, but not that he would get hurt. If he was on top, there would be no reason to think about Ronnie or all of the bad things. He would be safe. Everything would be fine. 

“You look so good,” Frank mumbled, rutting himself against Gerard until he got another moan.

“I thought we were gonna wait until after the movie,” Gerard said, pressing his hips up against Frank’s in search of more friction. 

“I can’t. I wanna be with you.” Frank kissed Gerard’s jaw and then waited for Gerard to make a move of his own. Gerard reached up to stroke Frank’s hair and then started kissing him on the mouth, sliding his tongue along Frank’s as he worked his hand between their bodies and started rubbing Frank through his jeans. 

“I was gonna light candles,” Gerard moaned, as if protesting even though his body was giving Frank all the invitation he needed. 

“Fuck candles. I’m not a girl,” Frank said, kissing Gerard on the corner of his mouth and then forcing himself to leap up from the couch. “Come on. Show me your bedroom.”

Gerard groaned and stood up, pulling at his skinny jeans in an attempt to make more room for his straining erection. He walked past Frank to show him into the bedroom where there were dirty clothes and bed sheets strewn everywhere as if Gerard had gotten into some kind of a fight when getting out of bed that morning. 

“Wow. Didn’t your mom ever teach you how to clean?” Frank asked, jumping onto the bed regardless of the mess and spreading his legs. The position made him feel vulnerable at first, even with his clothes on, but when Gerard got on the bed with him and crawled between his legs to lie on top of him. 

“You okay?” Gerard asked.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Frank said, flashing a smile and squirming a little under Gerard’s body. 

“We don’t have to do this tonight. We’ve got a whole week…”

“I wanna do it as many times in a week as we can,” Frank said, scrunching his nose at how weird the words sounded coming out. He hoped Gerard didn’t think low of him, think of him as some kind of slut or…

“I’d like that,” Gerard said, laughing a little and kissing Frank quickly on the mouth. “We gotta make the most of it.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, smiling and moving to press his hips up against Gerard’s, seeking friction even though the bright lights in the room were making him feel self-conscious. He hated it whenever anyone saw him without clothes. Even changing for gym class was embarrassing. 

Gerard started kissing him again, running his hands along Frank’s sides before unbuckling Frank’s belt and undoing the button of his jeans. When he slid his hand inside, Frank bucked against his palm, letting out a need moan before spreading his legs a little wider.

As much as he wanted to be on top, Frank also wanted to stay underneath Gerard. Rather than trapped, he just felt safe. It was as though Gerard’s body was acting as a shield and protecting him from the outside world. Frank didn’t want to give up that feeling. It replaced all of the fear Ronnie had instilled in him. He’d never before realized that the same position that made him feel ashamed and frightened could make him feel so loved and coveted. 

“Gerard?” Frank asked, turning his face away. Once their kiss was broken, Gerard moved to suck his neck instead his tongue. 

“Hm?”

“I want… I want you to do it,” Frank said, hating that the fear struck him once the words were out. His chest tightened almost painfully and the pleasure Gerard was giving him quickly turned to a source of anxiety. 

“I thought you wanted to be on top,” Gerard said, sitting back and taking his hand out of Frank’s jeans. 

“I want you to do it,” Frank repeated, chewing his bottom lip.

“Why?”

“I feel safe,” Frank said. “I want… I don’t know. I want to stay like this. I want to know you won’t hurt me.”

“If you’re…on bottom then it’s gonna hurt a little,” Gerard said, starting to look as worried as Frank. 

“I know, but…you won’t hurt me. Not on purpose.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, leaning down and kissing Frank again, running his hand up Frank’s shirt and flicking his thumb over one of Frank’s nipples. Frank’s hips twitched, but Gerard took his sweet time before slowly pulling off Frank’s jeans and underwear. 

“It’s bright in here,” Frank mumbled.

“Yeah, but you’re beautiful,” Gerard replied, meeting Frank’s eyes and smiling before sitting back to strip off his own shirt and take off the rest of his clothes. “When did you get abs?” Gerard asked, pushing up Frank’s shirt just a little to expose his stomach.

“Whatever,” Frank said, huffing out a laugh and rolling his eyes. He was far from muscular. 

“So perfect,” Gerard said kissing Frank on the mouth and then once on the stomach before giving Frank one last, lopsided smirk before sucking his length into his mouth.

Frank moaned and bucked his hips upwards. Gerard grabbed onto his hips to hold them still as the slowly worked his way down to the base, swallowing around Frank’s cock a few times before pulling back. Frank kept rolling his hips in want of contact as Gerard leaned over to the nightstand where he fished two boxes out of the drawer. 

Frank stared at them, panting not quite sure what they were. One of the boxes was most likely condoms, but the other one… Frank had no idea. Gerard must’ve been able to read that on his face because he smiled and held one box in each hand, brandishing them.

“Condoms,” he said, shaking the larger box. “Lube,” he added, rattling the other.

“Can I see?” Frank asked holding out his hands for the boxes. Whenever Gerard wasn’t touching him, the fear started coming back. Every new thing was a source of anxiety and Frank wanted to know as much as possible about every little thing to prevent the fear from taking over and ruining everything he had planned. 

Gerard opened the boxes and handed one of the condoms to him as well as the little bottle of lube.

“What? You’ve never seen condoms before?” Gerard asked, smiling a little. “What do they teach you in Catholic school?”

“Not this,” Frank said, turning the bottle of lubricant over in his hand before finding it unthreatening and handing it back to Gerard. He looked over the foil wrapper of the condom and then looked up at Gerard. 

“You can open it if you want to. I’ve got like…four boxes.”

“Why?” Frank asked, crinkling his nose as he pulled out the wet, greasy circle of latex. “It’s gross.”

“A little,” Gerard said, taking another condom out of the box and unwrapping it himself as if thinking Frank had jeopardized the other one just by touching it. At least that was how Frank felt. 

“It’s _weird,_ ” Frank said, unrolling the condom in his hand and stretching it out. Gerard laughed at him as he rolled the other one down his own length. Frank tossed the condom in his hand onto the floor and looked up at Gerard, the nerves coming back as he watched Gerard open the bottle of lube. There was no going back now and Frank’s comfort underneath Gerard’s body was starting to turn to fear. 

“It’ll be okay,” Gerard said as he poured the lubricant onto his fingers. “This makes it so it doesn’t hurt as much. I promise I’ll go slow, okay?” 

“Okay,” Frank whispered, swallowing hard and lying his head back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. His breaths became shaky as he felt Gerard part his legs a little more.

“I promise this shouldn’t hurt, okay?” Gerard said. 

Frank flinched when he felt one of Gerard’s fingers circle his opening and Frank’s fear was quickly overcome with a burning shame. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut as the first finger was pushed inside. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, slowly pushing the finger in deeper before curling it slightly and changing the angle until he struck something that made Frank’s spine arch off the bed. “Feel good?”

“Yes,” Frank whispered, opening his eyes in order to look at his boyfriend. Gerard leaned down to kiss him, and Frank parted his lips to allow Gerard’s tongue to slip inside. Frank started grinding his hips upwards even though he had nothing to press against, the mixed sensations of sucking Gerard’s tongue and the finger rubbing against that one spot inside him was sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. 

“I’m gonna add another, okay? Just stay relaxed.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Frank asked, pressing his lips to Gerard’s chin as soon as the words were out in a halfhearted attempt to garner even more affection from his boyfriend—hoping that somehow the gesture would make Gerard try even harder not to hurt him. 

“If you stay relaxed, it’ll be okay,” Gerard said. He kissed Frank on the cheek and then added the second finger. Frank whimpered and closed his eyes tight at the sting. It wasn’t the worst he had felt, but it reminded him of Ronnie. “Shh. It’ll be okay. Don’t tense up. I promise it’ll stop hurting any second.” Gerard started moving his fingers and tried to find the right angle. It took him longer this time, but one he struck it, Frank spread his legs a little wider. “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, surprising even himself when he rocked forward against Gerard’s fingers to drive them just a little deeper, sending more sparks of pleasure up his spine. Even when Gerard started spreading his fingers, Frank wasn’t bothered so long as one of them pressed against his sweet spot.

“I’m gonna add another, okay? It might hurt a little, but if it’s too much just tell me. I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Frank said, taking a deep breath as Gerard pushed another slick finger inside. The pain was intense and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip as Gerard worked him open. The sting still hadn’t subsided by the time Gerard pull his fingers back out and started slicking his erection with the lubricant. 

“I’ll go slow, I promise.”

Frank took another shaky breath and spread his legs a little more, hoping it might somehow make it hurt less. As soon as he felt Gerard rubbing against his opening with the tip Frank felt he might start to cry. He didn’t feel safe, no matter how many times he looked up to make sure it was Gerard above him and not someone else—someone cruel. As soon as the tip was pressed inside, Frank let out a shrill scream and fisted his hands in the blanket. Gerard didn’t move any further, but the pain stayed intense. Almost out of instinct, Frank reached down to stroke himself the way Ronnie would touch him to make sure Frank stayed hard through the abuse. But that small bit of pleasure wasn’t enough to blot out the pain. 

“Hurts. It really hurts,” Frank said, starting to cry as Gerard pushed forward another inch. “It hurts!”

“I know—it’ll stop. I promise. Frank—look at me, Frank. I promise it’ll stop.”

“It really hurts,” Frank said, feeling the tears start rolling down his cheeks. 

“It’s okay. I promise—I promise, it’ll stop.”

Frank kept letting out shrill cries as Gerard pushed in further and further until he was all the way inside. Frank turned his face away from the kisses Gerard tried to give him after that, wanting more than anything to disconnect from what was happening to him. He wanted Gerard to take it out—he wanted Gerard to leave him alone and never talk to him again. 

“Frank? Baby, what’s the matter?”

No matter how many times Gerard kissed his cheek or smoothed his hair, Frank refused to look at him. 

“Frank… Come on, I’m not trying to hurt you. Okay? I’m not trying to hurt you. Come on. You’re scaring me a little. Please don’t get upset.”

Gerard kissed his cheek over and over and Frank finally turned to kiss him gently on the lips, still crying softly from the immense pain. 

“It’s okay, Honey. I promise it’s gonna stop hurting.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked, afraid that if he asked Gerard to stop that he would be told no. He’d imagined that it would hurt, but not this bad. It almost hurt more than Ronnie.

“I promise. Just relax. You need to let your body relax so it doesn’t hurt.”

“Can you kiss me?” Frank asked, let out a quiet sob as his legs started shaking. All of the confidence he’d had going in was robbed from him. He felt so violated and humiliated. What did Gerard really think of him now that he’d turned to a crying mess after pushing and pushing so hard to get a chance to get Gerard in bed. 

Frank knew deep in his heart that their first time was going to be their last time. What use did Gerard have for a pathetic, damaged crybaby?

“Shh. Don’t cry. It’s gonna feel better,” Gerard said in between gentle kisses. Before long Frank felt him start moving, and even though he started striking that spot and Frank’s arousal returned, nothing banished the doubt. 

Even when Frank’s cries started turning into little moans and then screams of unabashed pleasure, Frank’s mind still whispered all the awful things he’d been told over the years. When he finished, Gerard wasn’t far behind—moaning out words of praise and affection. 

But as soon as pulled out, Frank rolled onto his side and curled into a protective ball, wishing a blanket was within reach so he could cover himself. Gerard had let him keep his shirt on, but it felt next to useless to Frank who felt so exposed, so violated.

“Frank?” Gerard touched his shoulder, but Frank shrugged him off. “Frankie, what’s wrong?” Again, Gerard tried to shake him, but Frank moaned and pulled away. “Okay…”

He heard Gerard let out a heavy, shaky sigh. 

“You could’ve told me,” Gerard said. “I would’ve stopped if you told me.”

Frank said nothing, too embarrassed to admit that what he’d always asked for had been too much for him to handle. 

“Don’t do this to me,” Gerard said, shaking Frank’s shoulder again. “Please. I don’t…I don’t want feel like a _rapist_ here. I thought you wanted me.” Gerard sounded like he was about to cry and Frank started to feel guilt gnawing at him as well. 

There wasn’t any more room in his chest for the bad feelings and Frank started to sob. 

“Talk to me,” Gerard said. “Just talk, okay? Just say _something._ ”

“It really hurt,” Frank whispered.

“But it stopped, right? It _stopped_ hurting.”

“Yeah…” 

“Did you ask me to stop? I… I didn’t hear you if you did. Shit. Did you ask me to and I didn’t hear it? _Fuck._ You did, didn’t you?”

“No. I was _scared_ to. I didn’t want to make you mad,” Frank mumbled, picking at the pillowcase before pulling the entire pillow out from under his head in order to hold it to his chest.

“Frank, I wouldn’t have a gotten mad at you.”

Slowly, Frank forced himself to roll over and look up at Gerard’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Gerard said, trying to offer a smile as he carefully, slowly reached out to pet Frank’s hair. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Frank confessed, trying not to cry any more than he already was. “I was fine but…then I just—I freaked out and, um. I don’t know. It hurt. I didn’t think it would hurt.”

“Just don’t shut me out, okay? I want to be here for you, come here.” Gerard opened his arms and gestured for Frank to hug him, but when Frank tried to sit up the pain doubled and he fell back down against the bed. 

“Really hurts…”

“Okay,” Gerard said, lying at Frank’s side and cuddling him close, pressing kisses to his shoulders and the nape of his neck. After about half an hour, Frank finally seemed to relax in Gerard’s arms and scooted closer to him, folding himself against Gerard’s body and letting out a tiny sigh. “I really do love you, Frank.”

“I love you too,” Frank whispered, sounding sleepy. “I’m cold.”

Gerard pulled away just long enough to pull some of the blankets back onto the bed and draped them over Frank’s shoulders. 

( ) ( ) ( )

They didn’t talk much the second day Frank stayed at Gerard’s apartment. Frank had warmed up to Gerard a little more after the pain subsided, and he was willing to cuddle with Gerard on the couch as they watched more movies and ordered takeout so Frank wouldn’t have to walk around the city with his bad limp. 

On the third day, things had gone back to somewhat normal between them, Frank’s happy disposition coming back more and more. He even dared to exchange handjobs with Gerard in the shower that morning before Gerard had to leave for work. 

On day four…well, Gerard got talk Frank up for night five—the night Frank got up the courage to be on top. He fumbled a bit at first, and got so nervous that Gerard ended up having to prep himself since Frank was fearful he’d either scratch Gerard’s insides with his fingernails or that he would do something wrong. He spent a lot of time reassuring Frank that he wouldn’t laugh at him, and then a little bit longer trying to teach Frank how to angle his movements until he struck Gerard’s prostate. 

It was all downhill after that… 

All downhill.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank groaned and rolled over in the bed, wiping his face on the pillow and trying to block out the bright beams of sunlight that were stabbing him in the eyes. He could hear Gerard fussing with something in the other room, and then heard the bedroom door open.

“You gonna get up sometime today or what?” Gerard asked.

Frank let out a fussy, growl and grabbed the pillow out from under his head and chucked it at Gerard’s face. Of course, he missed and Gerard laughed at him. 

“Come on. I thought you were going into town today.”

“Not until noon,” Frank whined.

“Frankie, it’s almost eleven.”

“What?” Frank sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Shit—why didn’t you wake me up!?”

“I tried!” Gerard said, giggling at him and stepping back out of the room.

“Keep laughing and I’ll get you tattooed with me!” Frank yelled. 

Gerard didn’t answer.

“Yeah, I thought that’d shut you up,” Frank muttered, groaning as he pulled himself out of bed. His body was stiff and sore, and he had a horrible hickey on his throat that would be a bitch to cover in the short amount of time he had before his appointed at the tattoo parlor in the city.

He’d let Gerard be on top again last night after his boyfriend had had a particularly tense day at work. He’d almost gotten himself fired after running his big mouth, and the only way Frank had learned got Gerard to quit whining and crying was to pull him into the bedroom and let Gerard get on top. Sometime after voicing all of his frustrations, Gerard started kissing at Frank’s neck and parted his legs. 

Frank never particularly cared to be on the bottom, but sometimes it worked in his advantage. If it shut Gerard up, then Frank was willing to go with it. 

After getting dressed, Frank slipped out into the living room where Gerard was looming over the coffee table working on another sketch. 

“Not gonna kiss me goodbye?” Frank asked, crawling over the back of the couch in order to lie himself—and most of his weight—onto Gerard’s spine. His boyfriend gave an indignant groan and leaned back until Frank slid off of him and wormed his way onto the couch cushions to sit in a somewhat normal position. Frank pursed his lips until Gerard turned and kissed him. 

“You want to meet up for lunch after you get your tattoo?” Gerard asked.

“Eh, might wanna make it dinner. I think this one will take a while.”

“If it takes too long you’d better text me.”

“How? My arm’s gonna be next to useless until they’re done with me.”

“You have two hands,” Gerard said, returning to his sketch until Frank started pressing kiss after kiss on his cheek. “What?”

“You sure you don’t wanna come with me?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to be around needles. You know that.”

“Aw, but you went with me to get my immunizations for college.”

“Yeah, and I had my face buried in the trash can puking the entire time because needles fuck me up.”

“That was embarrassing. I hope you know that.”

“Well it wasn’t exactly pleasant for me either,” Gerard said, laughing a little. 

“Aw, my poor baby,” Frank said, laughing and kissing Gerard’s cheek a few more times before Gerard turned to kiss him on the mouth, not taking his damned eyes off is sketch. “You need to start paying attention to me or I’ll tell my mom on you,” Frank said, his tone more teasing than serious.

They both knew if he told his mother anything negative about Gerard, she would drive up there and start trying to move Frank out of the apartment. 

“I’m working. I wanna get this done,” Gerard mumbled.

“Then look at me when you kiss me and I’ll leave you in peace,” Frank said, grinning when Gerard finally turned to look at him. 

“Love you, Frankie,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the lips and staying there, letting Frank suck on his bottom lip, until Frank pulled away.

“Okay. I love you too. Now I gotta go. I’ll text you if I get the chance.”

“Tell me where you wanna eat dinner!”

“You pick. I’m lazy,” Frank said, kissing Gerard one last time on the cheek before jumping off the couch and grabbing his hoodie off the back of the couch. “Love you,” Frank said again as he dug through the clutter on the kitchen table to get his keys. 

“Love you more,” Gerard said, hardly paying any attention as he worked at his sketch. 

“You’d better,” Frank said as he opened the door of their apartment. “I’m getting a tattoo of your face.”

“You’d better fuckin’ not!” Gerard said, finally looking up from his page and giving Frank his undivided attention. “Don’t you dare! Your mom would _kill_ me! And I don’t want to think of needles every time I look at my face.”

“Don’t worry, princess, you mess with your hair too much for me to get a tattoo that would actually look like you.”

“Good,” Gerard said, still looking a little worried.

“By the way,” Frank said, hesitating halfway out the door.

“What?” Gerard asked, looking from his sketch to Frank’s face, struggling to resist the impulse to return to work before Frank had left.

“It’s your turn to do laundry and if you put it off again… Well, you’re not gettin’ laid tonight.” Frank shrugged and then smirked as Gerard started to look offended. 

Statistics always told him that victims of abuse were more likely to turn into abusers themselves. But Frank felt the only time he ever used coldness to get his way when he picked on Gerard for being so bratty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for confusion! The "All downhill" line was meant as the idiom meaning it was easier, less of a struggle from there, not the bad, downward spiraling kind of downhill. Bah, English language!**
> 
> I want to thank all my readers for seeing me through this fic to the end despite my various breaks and all the times I went on hiatus. I hope this ending doesn't disappoint even though I know a lot of you are sad to see this story come to an end. I have a lot more fics in mind and hopefully one of them might be able to fill the space Cats has occupied for you. I am very, very grateful to you all for sticking around and cheering me on as I worked through this story! You guys are truly the best and I hope to see you on some of my other stories!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful!


End file.
